


Steve's Unsent Letters

by gr8escap



Series: Correspondence [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America: The First Avenger, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Switching, sam wilson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 47,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8escap/pseuds/gr8escap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Letters written by Steve, never sent to Bucky (from The First Avenger through and beyond Winter Soldier)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Project Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> watching the movie, there were some pieces that inspired a little extra something.

I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting the chaos inside the lab underground. I wasn’t even expecting a lab to **be underground.** I thought “procedure” must be private, cold, sanitary white walls and metal tables. I stood looking down at the platform, Dr. Erskine was there and a host of uniformed people, then there was the gallery. Crowded like the expo that night before you shipped out, Buck.

When I looked at Agent Carter, it was like she read those thoughts.

The next thing I knew, I was half naked, strapped into a coffin of sorts. The Vita Ray machine of Mr. Stark’s. It really was half automobile, half coffin. Huge and intimidating, but I’d never tell anyone that. Yet it was claustrophobic with the thing all shut tight.

Not that any of that bothered me, I was a soldier, I was doing – what was I doing? – for my country (don’t be rolling your eyes). I made a joke to keep from running. I’d just made a big speech to ~~Peggy~~ Agent Carter about running. Can’t back down now, you know me.

As the count – muffled to my sorry hearing, and yet more distant due to the metal machine – went on, the pain was excruciating. My bones broke and healed in rapid succession as my body filled up the void inside the machine. I screamed and they were about to stop the whole thing. As they threatened to do so, I was actually getting used  to the pain, and even the asthma attack that had threatened when the first bones started to fracture was a distant memory. I was able to hear Mr. Stark more clearly counting percentages and the window above my head became eye level, I was figuring it all out, feeling each new size. It hurt like hell but I welcomed the end of each new pain. I hollered at them not to stop! I was going on adrenaline and whatever was in that serum.

When the machine opened up, all kinds of new chaos broke out, first everyone seemed to push in on me. I was breathing more oxygen than I think I’d ever inhaled, the room seemed to spin and hands were all over me, I guess I was a sight, but all I could see were the tops, Buck, the tops(!) of every head there. You don’t even know what a sensation that was , so obviously when ~~Peggy~~ Agent Carter asked how I felt? “Taller” – swell answer, right? But that’s about when explosions, gunfire and screaming shattered everything to little pieces.

I know you know how mad I can get, but _nothing – **nothing –**_ could have prepared me for how angry I was when Dr. Erskine was gunned down. Bucky, he was just a **nice guy**. I took off out of there like, well like nothing else. And you know what? I ran like a damn cheetah.


	2. After Azzano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's Unsent letters to Bucky

It’s been a few days since the Hydra camp and I’m worried. You say you’re fine; you even assured me that you were checked out by the medics. I’m trying to believe, Buck, I really am. Listen, if anyone knows about doctors, it’s me. I could give pointers. Lectures even; I just need ta know that you really are ok. **You** would **demand** no less from me.

I know there’s more. I won’t force anything – you’ll tell me when you’re ready. I’ll tell you, tho’ I’m so relieved that you’re “ok”. I really did think you’d died. All the fights you pulled me from and here I could finally pay you back, but to hear that you were dead, Buck, it killed me. Yet I had to keep hoping or get proof and bring you home. No one kills my brother without retribution. Yeah, I know, you “ain’t dead, cut it out, Steve”, but still… Ya ain’t gotta protect me, if they did anything to ya Buck, I should know.

 


	3. A New Century

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's unsent letters to Bucky - waking in a new century with the same old pain.

I woke up today. It was oddly quiet, then I thought I was dreaming, the radio was impossibly playing the game we went to in May ’41. I was about to call out to you, it had felt real for that split second, then the razor sharp pain that always hits me in the gut when I remember you falling – completely out of my grasp. I’m sorry Buck I can’t stop the ache when I think of you. Especially now that they tell me I’ve been asleep for almost 70 years. You’d think it would comfort me that I never had to endure those 70 years of grief, but really – it feels like hundreds. I was content in dying. I’d be followin’ you, doin the thing I was meant to do, protect our world, our loved ones, and meet you on the other side.

I’d gotten more out of dying than you had. I’d been able to say good bye to Peggy. It was enough.

I remember telling one of these letters (that I’d never get to send) about the pain of project rebirth. How my bones broke, knit and rebroke again and the pain – but this soul -eating pain of being me, young and alive and all alone in a new century – that’s the worst.

Pummel me all day long – but this gnashing, terrorizing pain in my soul is unbearable.

Damn it, don’t roll your eyes at me, I’ll do as you’d want. I’ll carry on – but no one can tell me how I’ll be doing it, Buck, not even you.


	4. Alien War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's unsent letters to Bucky - post Avengers

Two weeks living – trying to live – in the future, I’ve seen so many of our old haunts are gone. “That would tear Bucky up to know that place is gone” or “wow, this new [….] would really thrill Bucky.” Then what do you know? I had to go to war again.

We “won” in ’45, beat the Nazis and Hydra. It wasn’t a gracious win, Buck, it was devastating, but you & I were gone, footnotes of the war, so we didn’t feel it. Then I get word that Schmidt’s god damned cube is back an – get this – aliens are going to use it to destroy the world.

Not the kind from the movies, either, no. I’m talking about god-like men and creatures alike. They can control a man’s mind – kill me before that can happen to me – they crushed half of New York.

I fought alongside men with strange and fanciful powers and devices, gods and women the likes of which you could only compare to Peggy, strong, smart and they embrace it Buck – no more beating them into a mold. Sure there are still some silly gals out there but you’d be whistling and grinning at these powerful women. And they’d kick your ass!

These powerful and inventive men and women defeated the alien attack. I was neck deep most of the time and almost over my head the rest. I mean, fighting something so weird – more even – than an unmasked Johan Schmidt. I might have had a couple of “Steve’s gone and done it” moments, picking myself up and making sure I hadn’t died, but I think, aliens considered, I did ok.

We won!


	5. After the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brief. A note to the man who pulled Steve from the river. Must have been on a post-it for all it says. Yet it says so much.

All I can say is “holy shit”. It’s been a long, long few days. I may have been left alone in this hospital room for a total of three minutes. Everyone is so helpful and concerned that they just can't figure out how to leave me alone.

I'm trying to convince them I'm not going anywhere. However, if you were to visit... I'd welcome you with "pre-serum Steve" weakling arms and probably never let you leave.

I know it was you that pulled me from the river Buck, I get why you left but that doesn’t mean I won’t stop looking for you now. You wouldn’t stop if things were reversed.

I know, it’s selfish but I don’t care. You’ll have your space; I know I won’t find you until you want me to. But I can’t just sit and guess when that will be, I’m going to start looking as soon as I can, so until that time, enjoy it.


	6. A Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even Steve's tired of his down days

Today was a good day. Yes, I have those too. I don’t often think hard about them, I usually just have them and carry on until the next one. They are the reason to carry on, after all. I just noticed a lot of bitching gong on so I thought ‘what the hell?’

Barton decided that we only seem to associate with one another in times of chaos and he’s right for the most part. I mean, chaos seeks us out as often as we hunt for it. He decided we needed to get away from the city.

“It’s hot and miserable, I’m wearing too damn many clothes, and how can you stand yourselves?”

I’m not sure how it happened, if Natasha got tired of his moaning or Stark got it into his head that a speed boat and a beach party was a grand idea or maybe they all ganged up on Banner and me and had it planned all along. I suspect this the most because even Thor was suspiciously available and present. Come to think of it, Sam was also not only available; he was visiting at just that moment.

Ok, so I was ambushed. So was Bruce so I guess I’ll just have to let it slide.

The beach survived the Avengers (don’t roll your eyes. I didn’t name them).

Barton, Sam & I played football, Nat charged in on our game, tackling first Sam then me, turning on even her own teammate, Barton.

Tony was trying to impress Thor and Banner with his boat. Thor was trying to be impressed with the boat, Banner was trying not to be. Tony got bored with the two of them and encouraged them to challenge the rest of us to a free-for-all game. That disintegrated a little quickly so Tony or Nat enlisted JARVIS to reorganize our little melee into a structured grudge match built by calculations JARVIS worked out. Maria Hill showed up just in time to be added to the roster.

We all got beat up and beat people up. It was a ridiculous mess by the end of it and we ended up calling it. It was a fun mess. We all agreed we should do it again, even with the tie game, neither side would be tipping the scale any time soon. Maybe if Rhodey could have made it or you’d have been here, one team could have had an edge.

Exhausted! We all practically collapsed in the sand. Drinks were delivered (the man’s got us all spoiled now) and we watched the sun set and chatted by the bonfire that either Tony forged with an Ironman gauntlet or Thor started with Mjolnir. I missed the catalyst, but I’d have welcomed the chance to start it old school. Just for old time’s sake.

We’re back in the city now. I’d have stayed out there if I’d remembered that the city lights would interfere with my current activity. The allure of the night sky has me awake, even though I’m still quite tired from the day. I keep watching the stars even though it’s harder to see them with the lights. Remember the stargazing we’d do during blackouts? The things you’d dream up about flying among them? It’s possible Buck. There’s a future in space, a future for you to be a part of it, if you’d still want that.

And crazy football games on the beach with even crazier super-people.


	7. Camp Lehigh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes found in Steve's effects box  
> slang terms found at http://www.girlinthejitterbugdress.com/1940s-slang/

So I got railroaded into going through my “effects” from before the ice. Sam would hate to hear me put it that way. He was nothing but a supportive friend. I guess it really wasn’t **all** as bad as all that.

Books. Yeah, I guess I was corny. Your dress uniform cap. My sketch books fat with all the extra pages full of letters from me to you that were never sent.

I read a few today, Camp Lehigh, on the show circuit. There were even some sketches of the chorus girls for ya. Not sure why I didn’t mail those or pass them around once I got there. They’d have been popular in camp. There wasn’t much after we got together, because why? We talked about damn near everything. 

It was pretty tough to go through the stuff, but to be honest, not as tough now that I know you’re out there somewhere. Maybe one day I’ll dump all of this stuff in your lap and you’ll give me all the hell you woulda given me then. It seems I was a little down on myself from time to time.

Hah. Sam is so funny, reading over my shoulder and saying “nothing’s changed. Did you tell him that? Tell him I said nothing’s changed.”

There ya go. From one good friend of “Scrappin Steve Rogers” to another.

* * *

 

 Bucky, I’m at Camp Lehigh. I joined the army – as “Steve from Brooklyn” if ya gotta know. I’m part of a program – it’s all secret and classified so I guess you’ll just have to wait for the movie. Someone finally wanted me. I don’t exactly measure up to these guys but there’s hope that I can do my part and join you at the front.

There’s this dame, Agent Carter, Man she’s really on the beam! First drill and she decked this crumb Hodge – he really had it coming I tell ya. She’s a real humdinger! I have had to hold my temper with him too. He really is a bully and it’s hard to see him in the program as it was explained to me. If I pulled an Agent Carter on him I’d be sent packin’. Oh, but I’ve wanted to.

I hope you’re not doing anythin’ too stupid out there. I’ll  be joinin’ the fight before too long if I can keep up. I’m sure tryin’.

* * *

 

Remember when I told you about Agent Carter? Buck, this is one amazing woman. She’s noticed Hodges tricks and torments and offered to show me some things. You know, I was offended at first. She doesn’t care, she ordered me to report for training. She’s been showin’ me some moves and tactics to ‘complement’ what you already taught me. Says your moves are for bigger guys, the stuff she’s teachin is supposed to be for someone smaller (like a dame – or this shrimp). As much as I hate admitting it (you know that better’n anyone) I actually see the merit in her tactics. I really respect her. You’d like’er Buck, not only is she a real Dish, she’s killer diller! She seems to tell it like it is and doesn’t seem to care that I can’t measure up to the rest of the guys around here.

Aw jesus, I’d better quit while I’m ahead. I sound fuckin’ clobbered.

Take care of yourself. You’ll have to answer to “Scrappin’ Steve Rogers” if ya don’t.

* * *

 

Buck. I’m scared. I did it. I made it through the first phase of the project. I don’t believe, out of all the guys – proper soldiers – they picked me to be first. I’ve never been picked first.

Dr. Erskine just left after a pretty soft pep talk. Damn, I wish he’d left the schnapps. I could use a belt. Tomorrow I will go through the next phase. Whatever happens, this procedure sounds unreal.

I’m supposed to be sleeping but I’m tryin to steel my nerves and still my hands by writing to you. I feel the prickly feeling of a possible asthma attack and I’m trying to remember everything you ever told me. It could just be fear.

I’m kinda excited too, It’s goin’ to be worth it. You’ll see (I guess I will too).

With luck and a little work, I should be in battle soon. Save a little stupid for when I get there. I’ll buy drinks.


	8. Checking in from the Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from the war bonds propaganda tour

Wow Buck! It’s been a real crazy time lately. I’ve been touring the USA doing these war bond theater shows and movies(!). I don’t even know what to think of all the hype. I keep hearing what good I’m doing for the war and I try to believe it, I really do, but I **know** I can do **more**.

That day – the procedure and the chase – I wasn’t sure how to tell you, so I left it out but I chased that Hydra agent across town and dove in dragging him from a submarine. I can do so much more for you and the men over there. I feel so trapped.

First, in a body that wasn’t good enough, well enough or strong enough and now, I’m just a propaganda tool. A “super soldier” is what they’d said but I’m neither super or a soldier.

I am dancing around in a world you’d thrive in. I’m always surrounded by girls but I never quite know what to say. I can’t pull off the Barnes charm. That was a big mistake, the time I tried that. I might as well have flung myself down the back stairs in front of Jesus, Mary and Joseph themselves, I was such a flop.

She’s a pretty little thing, curly titian hair; bright, bright, blue eyes and a warm and endearing smile. She’s new on the show circuit and I’d heard her name was Evelyn. I walked up to her, my stage confidence only flagging a little bit, but when I opened my mouth **nothing** came out. She smiled and I tried again – now how hard can it be to ask a dame out for a drink? – I stammered something (I can’t even remember what); she said to me “Swell show tonight Steve”, turned and walked away. Obviously I failed to get to the point where I offered to take her for drinks.

I have had to learn quite a bit of polite refusal tactics from some of the wives around here though. I guess I’ve found my appeal. I’m the type of guy these women want to just mess around with; but we both know that’s not me.

I keep hearing that if I keep doing a good job, I’ll finally get to the front, commanding my own platoon? That’s not even my goal, just to join in and do my part. The more I carry on out here, the less I believe the promises.

I sure hope you're being safe out there, I have a lot more access to papers and radio now that I'm traveling and I hear horrible stories. I know, it doesn't seem to make a lick of sense to be eager to come over to that kind of madness, but it makes sense to me. Now more than ever, I feel I can contribute something to the cause.

The procedure changed not only my physical stature, things that I never thought of before were improved. I see colors now-more colors than the average person. That caused a headache or two until I adjusted to it. Headaches are now a rare occurrence but the sensation was so overwhelming, I had to take a few days to really adapt

 Another change, with my illnesses, my memory sometimes got tricky, I know you remember (well I think that now my memory might finally be a match for yours). Today I can see a schedule (like our tour itinerary) once and remember it. It sure helps with drawing; imagine how it would help with tactical planning. I also put a few words in on the itinerary planning with tactical planning mind. Some of the things they were doing just didn’t make practical sense. They still don’t.

It’s funny how they created this change in my mind and body and nobody wants to use it.

Take care of yourself. Tell your buddies to keep an eye out for Steve Rogers’ best friend… I know you’re spending more time watching their backs than yours. 


	9. More from the Tour

This might sound weird, but the Pacific ocean is different in so many ways to what we’re used to. It’s less settled and less crowded. It’s warmer, at least I think, every comparison I make to before the procedure is a guess. I don’t get cold – not nearly as easily anyhow.

The colors are something else I can’t exactly compare. I’ll have to get back home and see it in its entirety to know. I want to capture the colors and feel of the California coast but my experience with colors is nonexistent. It’ll be an experiment. An experiment’s experiment. (You rolled them again, didn’t you?).

I’m talkin about the peaceful pacific coast but the energy of the people isn’t quite peaceful. There’s a buzzing feeling, they’re on edge. I’d like to think that what I’m doing can at least give them something else to think about for a time but while I’m getting applause in the theater seats, I’m getting angry mockery in the streets. They’re angry, frightened people who feel like I should be doing more. It doesn’t help when I feel the same on any given day.

I should clarify, not everyone I meet on the streets is judgmental, it’s just those voices are the loudest and most familiar due to my own voice screaming gibes. There are beautiful people who embrace me and thank me for making them feel a part of it all too.

I haven’t gotten any of your letters since I’ve been on the tour. I hope you’re not worried about me, more importantly, I hope you’re stayin safe.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s almost like I’m getting closer to my goal. We’re headed to entertain the troops next. I wonder if our paths will cross. If you hear of Captain America entertaining nearby, get there. I’d love to see for myself that you’re safe and in one piece and you can make fun of me for my new look. Just go easy on me about being a fraud, will ya? I shouldn’t kid myself about getting closer to my goal, I’m all flash now. They’re never going to cut the strings.

I’m sure I’ll be seein ya soon, just remember everything you learned. You’re probably doing just fine, I guess I’m a little more worried after seeing some reels complete with stories from the front and hospital tents, field medics and the works. It gets harder every time I see the reality, harder to imagine you there and me not around to have your back. I know, you're thinkin' what good have I ever been? You’ve always had my back, but things might be more balanced this time. You and me watchin each other’s backs for once Buck.

 

* * *

 

 

So, I’ve been on European soil for exactly two days, last night we did a show for Generals and their wives and guests, other brass and a few local dignitaries. It was all politeness and I felt the most ridiculous imposter I could ever feel...

…until I stood in front of that crowd of weary soldiers. They were offended by me. It isn’t disrespect, its blatant offense. I’m nervous now, but not about the shows. I’m nervous about offending you, Buck. All I ever wanted to do was my part. When a senator looked at me, Steve Rogers, and said my part was crucial, I did it, even if it wasn’t as advertised. I now know that I’m an affront to the very men I wanted to be one of.


	10. First Things First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This goes along with chapter 8 of [Bucky's Journal](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464)

Bucky,

Sam just got back from the city, he’d told me over the phone some of what he’s been helping you through. No worries, only what you said he could share. It was shocking when you were on the phone but I ~~was~~ am happy you called, even though it was Sam’s (slightly unfair) prodding.

I’m glad that whatever forces drive this crazy world saw fit to put you in touch with him. There aren’t many better men than Sam Wilson.

He seems to think I need to do a bit of reflecting on my own challenges before we end up meeting up. I guess a little more inspection can’t hurt.

First things first.

Honesty:

                Thank you for allowing Sam that.

                I wish I was the one you could talk to, displaced WWII vets and all that

                I know why that’s not possible.

                Does it hurt? Yes

                Will I allow it to bother me? No (that one will take a bit of work)

I said it on the helicarrier, you’re my friend. That means I want the best for you. It sounds like you’re finding it and that makes me happy.

I’m tossing this out there again (I know Sam already asked), do what you want with it; **please** let us deal with Hydra. You’ve done an amazing job singlehandedly (pun intended – jerk) but you could be compromised so easily. I know how hard you must be working on all of the other aspects of your life and I **know** this should be your fight – if you had backup I wouldn’t bother asking. I could send Sam with word when we get to the end. I would gladly stand back and let you deal the final blow. I know I have no right to ask this but I am. And no matter what you decide, I **will** respect your decision.

Oh, and thank for telling Sam the “fondue” business. I owe you one.

I hope you enjoy the sketch of your ma. It made me a little sad, but a little happy too. I hope it brings you more happiness than sadness.

You have her eyes.

[Bucky's Journal](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464)


	11. Steve from Brooklyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after meeting Bucky at his request (found in [Bucky's Journal - Chapter 9](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/11361223))

Bucky,

Your late night call gave me all kinds of panic. Surely you’d call Sam, he’d know what to do, what the fuck? But I had to come. I had always promised I’d be there for you, especially since all of this, since Hydra and your escape from them. So don’t let that stop you from calling again, I’m glad you called and as hard as it was to leave you at the end, I know you’re making your space and your life **yours** and you need and **deserve** to do that. It just feels like there’s so much to make up for and not enough hours to do so. Slow down Rogers, I know, yeah… time is one thing we do have now.

I thought about what you’d said about the veterans and I’m going to bother Stark and his amazing girl Pepper about doing something significant for the vets of the city, maybe more. I mean, if anyone has contacts, resources and the heart to do it it’d be that pair.

You asked if I have nightmares. I do. All. The. Time. I had one just last night, I’d only just fallen asleep from it when the phone rang, but that doesn’t matter. Sleep and I haven’t been on the same terms since the 40's – unless you count the 70 year sleep-fest.

I’d been drawing before I fell asleep, motivated by your request, I started drawing us in the old Brooklyn place, remember the kitchen with the tiny eastern window? Everything goes yellow as the sun hits its height, the dust creating it’s beam across the light? That ratty ole stove and it’s liquid-life from the little percolator in chipped china cups? You used ta lean against the stove complainin’ that I was lettin’ in a raft with the curtain open, “ _Ya ought-ta be over here by the warm stove, Steve, not half out th’window_.”

So, there it was in pencil; you in your undershirt, with a cup raised, that exasperated look on your stupid face. It was half-sketched and half-shaded by the time I slumped over my drawing table (after seeing your place, I’ve realized I have _way too much_ “stuff”), and slept. I dreamed about you, out in the city looking like you did then – you hadn’t even put your shirt on - wandering the city in your undershirt, when you were jumped by Hydra – right in front of me and I couldn’t get to you. I couldn’t run fast enough to chase them down, I was running with all my might and I doubled over with an asthma attack but I was sure you and I were both dying – you at their hands and me – did they shoot me? no, it was just the damned asthma, but (it's been so long) I didn’t recognize the symptoms. I was jolted awake at the sound of your voice shouting my name – followed by gunfire and screaming. Yours and Mine.

So yes, I have nightmares. Soul stealing bastards, some more severe than the one last night, some less so, but the damage they _all_ do has no set place on the severity scale. They torture us into the day and sometimes into the week.

If you call again, and I hope you will, I’d like to talk more. About the nightmares; or about the weather, or… you tell me. We seemed to do OK today. I’m glad we managed to fall into something ancient and comfortable, It was ingrained familiarity and it made any fears I had about awkwardness disappear. I hope for you the feelings were comforting and made it easier for you. I know this was much sooner than you’d ever intended or expected. I need to have you in my life, you’ve always been there – are supposed to be there – I’ll take the time I’m given gratefully. I never want to push you away by being too eager. Or not eager enough.

I’ve been opening up in VA groups. It was tough at first to even admit that I was struggling. It seems these soldiers have seen so much, but then so have we, right? It was honestly the one of the hardest thing I’ve ever done, opening up and spilling things I could only ever tell you or maybe Sam. I mean it was daunting to be around these kids whose suffering is so fresh and try to decide which “problem” is worth “Captain America” unloading in front of them; yet as I realized that was what I was doing I stopped thinking. Stopped remembering who “ _Captain America_ ” was and stood and spoke to them as “ _Steve from Brooklyn_ ”.

 

> “It wasn’t enough that I’d watched him fall to his certain death, I hadn’t just watched, I’d failed to stop the fall. That wasn’t even the worst. The worst was that I just went on with the mission and didn’t even try to retrieve his body. If I had, I may have saved him all those years ago from what he’s had to endure since. Or if I’d have jumped after him we all know I’d survive. Look, 70 years in ice after diving a plane loaded with explosives. I could have saved him.”

In my head I try to rewrite history every day, Buck. It’s insane, I know. I’m working on that.

**Something normal happened today that just might make it easier. I had coffee with my friend Bucky this morning, and we made each other laugh.**

Your friend,

_"Steve from Brooklyn"_

_[Bucky's Journal - Chapter 9](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/11361223) _


	12. Being Needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does "Captain America" need? To be Steve Rogers, of course.

I’ve been thinking more and more about a lot of things, the way I have (and haven’t) dealt with a lot of what has happened. I’ll probably tell you this in person too, but it feels urgent so I’ll write it down first. You can get on me about repeating more than a machine gun later.

We aren’t normal or ordinary but we want to be – _on some level_ – understood. That fuels my urgency to see you and probably your reluctance to see me. I know you don’t feel that I could understand what you’re dealing with, and on a lot of levels you’d be right, but the crux of it is… we are from the same era, forged by war, frozen and reintroduced to life at the same point in time. A whole new world where from this point on, we can make of it what we want. I just hope that forging a new life includes remaining friends. We were at most points in our lives the one constant.

I’m certain that between me, Sam and other vets – and you – we can all come together to help you deal with your internal struggles… I’m working on mine, and I’m working on not doing it alone. As I said in my last letter, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, to open up to people about these struggles. I’ve managed to share more and it was still not easy but it didn’t get harder.

I’ve received some really good feedback from a few vets too, “if Captain America can…” which, taken in the spirit it’s intended, is actually an inspired comment. Of course I wince and curse internally; I think I can count on one hand the number of people who “know me” as Steve Rogers… and you more than anyone, deep down, you know me best. That’s **another** reason I need you, Buck. I try really hard not to put emphasis on why I need you, I don’t want to pressure you about it, but hearing others’ talk about their needs has compelled me to at least write it down. It’s not like you’ve ever received any of these stinkin’ letters anyway.

So, yes, I need you.

Another thing I hear a lot is how **being needed** is crucial to these men and women for stability.

There’s an argument in my favor.

I’m just being difficult because I don’t know how else to deal with all of this. There’s so much I want and so many ways that I don’t know the correct path to get there. For the first time in nearly 80 years (technically) I’ve had more time to reflect on things and it’s _dangerous_. Time for reflecting is a luxury we never knew coming up and now the world is focused on exactly that, luxury and self-reflection.

On an unrelated note, Stark Industries is working on setting up some interesting things for NYC Veterans, Both Tony and Pepper sounded particularly excited about it when I mentioned it, things that will include work stations with computers for job searches and for staying/getting in touch with families. The housing will come a little later, but Pepper is already scouting property to build or renovate. The work stations are going to be in various areas of the city for ease of access. There will possibly even be kiosks at subway stops. It looks promising. There’s also going to be a center for skills training. I just hope they can get it off the ground while not having it be abused by others and that the vets don’t get mired in more red tape than they’ve already had to navigate. Tony assures me he’s working that out.

That’s thanks to you, Buck. You opened my eyes to something bigger, even, than the Avengers but rendered invisible because no one wants to see. I think maybe you should even consider running one of those skills courses.

I’ve spent some time recently, in the midst of all the reflection of course, drawing. Sometimes I draw from memory like a sketch I just finished of us with the Commandos around a campfire (when we felt lucky or dumb enough to light one), and my interpretation of your [“Princess Ellie” holding your hand lovingly](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/11361223). I think I’ll be doing a lot more with my art, maybe even trying to sell some of it or something. Imagine, from starving artist – to soldier – to Avenger and back to Artist (hopefully not starving this time around).

Sam once asked me what makes me happy, and art is starting to make me happy again. It's taken a while to get from that question to my answer, so I'll ask you the same thing - and don't feel that your answer needs to be immediate, because it can't be, it has to come from deep inside.

Bucky Barnes, what makes you happy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone who can draw sweet Ellie holding Bucky's metal hand, I'd be floored and honored to see it. :)


	13. And I Ran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In addition to being needed Steve sometimes needs someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a companion to Bucky's Journal: Chapter [10\. Role Reversal (of sorts)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/11494939) they share a little dialog but each from the character's own pov

I can’t tell you how important the other day was. I don’t know how it was that I fled to your place, only that I needed someone and I needed to get as far away from everything as I could. Aside from these things, I wasn’t capable of thought.

I’ve spent my waking hours either being in charge of so many things since SHIELD; when I’m not commanding I’ve been looking for you and now part of my time is left open, for self-discovery maybe? For art? Forging a friendship with you would fit in nicely there.

My nights – when I’m not filling sleepless hours with more work are spent in dreams, nightmares sometimes, often really. It’s always the train. Even though you’re not gone – it’s the train. The chasm is our friendship, our lifelines being ripped into something surreal. I had one of those gripping ones-that doesn’t end with your fall, but with my failure to be what you needed me to be-to be strong enough, smart enough to dive after you and bring you out – instead of Hydra getting their hands on you. The accusations tearing into me; the screaming from films of your torture being laid at my feet, your haunted eyes blaming me for never being enough.

I woke from this torment and ran, faster than I ever thought I could run. I had no destination – I followed my feet and wound up struggling for air like I was that other version of me. I was only half-way aware of the alley as I started to grasp for my phone. As you answered, I realized just how close I’d gotten to you.

 

 

> “Steve?” your voice, familiar in its sleepy concern helped make the swirling images in my mind still.
> 
> “Bucky –“ my breath hitched and though the air was getting in, I seemed to have no control over the pattern and rhythm.
> 
> “What’s wrong, Steve?”
> 
> “Buck – I need you.” I was bracing myself against the wall, not feeling safe in the open.
> 
> “Hold on – You –? Are you OK?” this concern coming from the one person who could judge or save me was the only thing grounding me
> 
> “No.” I sobbed.
> 
> “Where are you?” I took a small measure of comfort as I could hear you jump to action.
> 
> “Outside.” Panting, “Alley.”

When you were close enough, I latched on to you – I should be embarrassed but I needed that anchor. You didn’t judge, the feel of your fingers idly running along my neck soothed this thing in me, the familiar words “Breathe Stevie” taking me back to before everything went to hell. You were there, on my level, encouraging me to breathe just like when we were small, I held onto that, lying my head on your shoulder to feel your breaths, to measure mine to yours just like so long ago.

You never did let things get uncomfortable, knowing how I hated this body I couldn’t control, how I hated people’s pity, so you were practiced at getting me away from the situation as soon as it passed – this time was no different when you offered a getaway. Coffee was a nice thing when we needed it after your bad moment, so it sounded comforting after mine. I know I wasn’t the best company that day; you were the best companion in a terrible situation, carrying conversations, flirting with the girl, leaving the silence when it was a good comfortable one. I really appreciate your skill and the care you gave me even though I absolutely invaded your space by making contact.

Even though I’ve been opening up about more things, I was at odds about whether or not I should talk to Sam at all about what happened. On the one hand, I wanted him to know about my problem and my progress and even how much you being there helped. On the other hand, it felt like betraying you somehow. In the end, that didn’t make much sense and was really not staying true to who I am trying to become.

He was nervous that I might have caused you to lose ground somehow. Do you know how it feels to have my friends concerned for one another? It’s “practically normal!” You, more than anyone, must understand what I mean by that.

Speaking of normal friendships, it looks like you’ve started something with that girl from the coffee shop. “Willow” (that week)? She’s cute. You should ask her out. She was also very good to us, I may have to start sending customers over there for real, and maybe we should meet there for an intentional coffee, instead of just as a recovery mechanism.

The info you collected on Hydra is challenging. I have some help trying to dig into some of it further and to translate some of it. It’s good info, but I see why you said it was time consuming. As soon as we get into it and see what exactly we’re dealing with, I’m calling you up. We’re going to do this hopefully in one shot. I keep thinking about what you said about not being safe and it bothers me too much.

I know you’re keeping a low profile and getting hydra burned to the ground for once and for all will be a huge relief. That just leaves the government. I’m going to (don’t laugh) discreetly start looking into the contacts I have, can access, what have you, and start building your case. I’ll see if I can feel aroud for the government’s case against you. If you have any insight on this, I’m going to need it. We have some ideas from my search for you. Of course all of this is only on your say-so, but I really hope you’ll let me. I’m going to keep you safe this time.

* * *

 

Well, this is progress. I’m crazily excited about the prospect of weekly coffee. It means we **can** move forward. I’ve kept hope but so many times nearly lost it again. Bless Sam for bearing with me and reminding me to let you choose, even though he _was_ the devil on my shoulder always reminding me that you could choose not having me in your life. I always hated that but I respect him for it. He’s never pulled punches – that’s why I like him. He’s like you in that he doesn’t see what others see in me and though he’d never say something harsh just for the sake of saying it – he won’t hold back when I need a good dose of truth.

Never really happens.

Hardly ever.

I’m sort of stuck on something from our earlier phone call. You sounded almost wounded by whatever memory you were puzzling over. I really hate that you have this inner turmoil and more, I hate that we aren’t in our old selves – the ones who could open up to each other about damn near everything. I’ve been tearing shit up for over a year to try to get you  back and the worst battles I can’t fight.

Now, I know they’re not mine to fight but you’ve been alone for so damned long that you really deserve someone to fight alongside you. If that means sitting in the dark while you wrestle demons or being a sounding board _I’m in_. While I’m moaning on, I’ve got **all this excess;** space, rooms, comforts and just **everything** and I’m insanely proud, Buck, just crazy about the way you’ve put a comfortable home together, **but** I wish you’d let me share what I have. We could maintain our privacy but when things went to shit (because we know it’s going to be a while) we could have the other to turn to without pulling dangerous rooftop acrobatics or darting – unseeing – through the city. That’s what I didn’t let on about my desperate run to you.

It just makes so much sense to pool resources, but – even as I know I won’t mail **this** letter either, I’m sure I won’t ask. I don’t want to ruin what we’ve built by offending you.


	14. Survey time. Is it too soon for some love?

I'm thinking of writing the love stuff sooner than later. Is it too soon? Comments please.


	15. It's not just Innocent Curiosity?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know, Buck, how to proceed. My heart is hammering, lurching from its home beneath my ribs into my gut as I think of losing you all over again if you ever found out.

I talked with Sam after we spoke, he has some interesting ideas. He asked about my feelings for you, asked if they could be “more” than brotherly love.

“Sam?” I didn’t know what to say, “That’s – where is this coming from?”

“Your self-honesty campaign. Could you be in love with Barnes?” He continued to explain how he thought I’d maybe never considered how I felt for you out of some “misguided sense of honor” and could I love you as deeply (but differently) as I did Peggy?

I took off to think, needing space away, I wound up at the coffee shop where I was met by – well she’s Aspen again today – who proceeded to continue where Sam left off, only much sweeter.

“Hello there gorgeous,” she drew my hand to her side and pulled me into her for a very sweet and salty (literally and figuratively) kiss.

“Salted Caramel, huh?” I breathed across her sweetened lips.

“My weakness – well one of them.” She ran her finger along my jaw, she’s a flirting genius, the finger trailed across my shoulder, “speaking of weaknesses, where’s your beautiful boyfriend?”

“Uhm – Who? – _What?”_

“Bucky of course, it’s clear you two are crazy about each other! Wait, you haven’t told him?”

“This is the first I’m hearing of it,” I looked into her eyes – “scratch that. Second time. Today.”

“Well you two are pretty obvious, you might want to do something about it.”

I was drowning, “Well, I came here to think about it – what are the odds?”

“It’s fate. Energy is really off the charts today Steve – can I call you “Steve” now that we’ve had our tongues in each other’s mouths?” she grinned elfishly, “I woke up simply overloaded with a kind of energy. Today **must** be your day!” she held both of my hands between us, ‘You do love him, don’t you Steve?” She rolled her eyes comically, “with that look, how do I even need to ask.” She giggled, a sweet and musical sound. “I don’t know, but I think you two are completely crazy. The time is now – command your own happiness and go get your boy, Cap.”

“Yeah?” I smiled at her, warming inside at the things she was saying. “I’ll start with coffee. Your sweet caramel kiss makes me think Salted Caramel; blended. Make it a big one – it’s one of those days.”

“Sit – I’ll bring it to you. And I’ll try to behave.” She pushed me over toward the big leather chair in the corner and that’s where I sit now, slightly confused and heatedly embarrassed.

I’m embarrassed because I didn’t ever think that what we had was love – I mean of course I’ve always loved you. I put aside certain thoughts because you’d never forgive me, even if it was just innocent curiosity. Looking back, it wasn’t that though, was it? I’ve always loved you and never even considered that I was in love with you. What a betrayal. I was a prickly shit when I could have been really something else. Anything else. I do remember thinking that after you fell – how I wasted time being prickly and sarcastic when I could have been a better friend. I always counted on the fact that you were there and then when you weren’t all hell broke loose.

Aspen – do you think we’ll ever get her real name – has been doting over me, flirting and bringing me food, water, books; ever since she got me seated. I’ve been returning her attentions and conversation a little half-heartedly. She’s amazing. So intriguing to draw, I’d love to paint her – her exotic looks are so fascinating from her sea green eyes to her caramel complexion, her slender fingers to her full lips. To paint her with you; all the contrasts and lines, it would be, well – an exercise in control for one. An exercise in color and texture too, if you want to talk about the art aspect of it.

God. I _am_ in love with you.

As I watched her; described her, it was still you I wanted in the piece. I don’t even know, Buck, how to proceed. My heart is hammering, lurching from its home beneath my ribs into my gut as I think of losing you all over again if you ever found out.


	16. Nervous Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, it took 80 years for skinny sickly Steve to realize that his friend was really trying to do what he thought was best, forgoing his own feelings to set up his one true love with the kind of dames that he and his best friend thought he wanted to make time with. Turned out the skinny kid actually did keep all the stupid with himself – thinking he wanted the exact opposite of what he already had.
> 
> \-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion to Bucky's Journal Chapter [13\. In Love and Lust](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/11813828) which has much more description and dialogue.

I’ve never been so happy and so frustrated in my life – individually or collectively. I’m overwhelmed by the love; both the love I have for you and the love I feel from you.

It’s like waking up from the ice into the warmest, coziest place – like coming out of the vita ray machine after having all emotions forced through my very being – Vibrant. Loud, the good, happy kind of loud that sings. All because I know how I feel and how you feel and it’s all the very opposite of everything I feared.

The frustration is a bigger thing – I want you. Today wasn’t _the day_ (no regrets); this giant revelation and many warm kisses were perfect for today. However, those kisses coupled with you on the back of my bike, so close, you holding me to you for no other reason than to be close (I’ve seen you I action you didn’t **need** to hold so tightly), those things made me want so much more and with fewer layers of clothing separating us.

Seventy years in ice wouldn’t soothe this need, why I thought a cold shower would help at all is beyond me (fuck you Barnes – if you can pull off that stalker joke I can have this).

It’s funny, coming home after today, even though I'm alone, I feel the loneliness less just knowing that you’re looking forward to our first “official” coffee meet-up (today doesn’t count). Knowing that we will be making something new (rules yet to be discussed); I keep saying that there was no difference in my love for you, and it’s true.

 

> 80 years ago there was this skinny sickly kid who was already in love with his best friend, the only person other than his mother who gave him more than the time of day. He wasn’t a lonely kid, because his soul mate (he didn’t know that was the term at the time) wouldn’t let him be. This soul mate knew what his best friend liked, he would go out of his way to convince beautiful girls who fit the bill that his friend was something out of this world, but that was all in his best friend’s head and heart. Not because it wasn’t true, the skinny guy might just have come from another solar system but somehow only this friend could see the stars in the eyes of the skinny kid.
> 
> The girls were already too cold to let the skinny guy in, they only warmed for the stunning best friend. That guy hung the very stars and the moon that shone in the eyes of his skinny friend-to every dame who came within his reach.
> 
> To be honest, it took 80 years for skinny sickly Steve to realize that his friend was really trying to do what he thought was best, forgoing his own feelings to set up his one true love with the kind of dames that he and his best friend thought he wanted to make time with. Turned out the skinny kid actually did keep all the stupid with himself – thinking he wanted the exact opposite of what he already had.
> 
> There was a hint of that a few years later in a bright eyed, smart woman who reminded Skinny and new-super soldier Steve of that brash and beautiful, bright eyed soul mate. But it was just a hint, you see, because that was a love story that didn’t get to be. Just a hint might be for the best because the bright eyed Peggy might have gotten her heart broken anyway by a life spent longing for the soul mate.

Even though I feel no shame, somehow I let it be stigmatized and pushed so deep that it was trapped inside of me until three beautiful people in one day created the key to unlocking my true self. It’s strange being free.

 

* * *

 

When I got up this morning and headed out for my run, I never expected to be here tonight feeling so many feelings, and not worried about it; not breaking down; not putting things in their carefully arranged place of practicing _not feeling._ I had sort of panicked after Sam and I talked; then when Aspen jumped on the bandwagon I couldn’t escape the thoughts I was trying to evade. yet I still gave up too soon.

Thank you for being stronger, for giving me your heart after so much longing. You’ve always been stronger; I was always just more persistent, luckily for me some of that rubbed off on you.

When I saw you at the coffee shop with your “is this seat taken?” line (real smooth), I’d already resigned myself to never telling you my feelings. You looked a little lost and, Buck, I’ve always seen you as kind of larger than life. Always. And there have been only a couple of occasions you’ve looked a little smaller, less invincible. This was one of those times. My resolution to keep my feelings to myself crumbled and I wrapped you in my arms. I know I said I was sorry and I was – but I wasn’t. I’m not. I never will be sorry for that hug. Never.

I was worried – what could you need to tell me that gave you such a look? I was relieved when you laughed later, giggling at your own assessment of Aspen. There was the boy I fell in love with (even though I was _so_ clueless at the time) in a joyous moment after far too long. I never stopped thinking about that laugh throughout our entire walk and all the way to pier 4. Past everything to the water’s edge, your laughter carried me to whatever it might be you had to tell me.

I enjoyed **your** laughing at your ( **very** horrible) joke about stalking me – you do realize that culminated in death and destruction right (hence **tasteless** )? – I enjoyed your enjoyment so much that when you blurted out _“Jeezus_ I love you.” I was stunned. ‘Did he really just say _that?_ Like _that?_ ’ whispered through my head (and my heart).

I needed to know. I didn’t want to – did want to be certain. Best I could do to find out was a stammered “Buck?” while reading every little thing on your face. The softened crinkles of the corners of your eyes; the blue sky reflecting back at me through your eyes; your mouth, slightly quirking red lips in a smirk that could turn to a frown with a single move on my part. Then, because I couldn’t pull my eyes from your mouth – watching for the frown I hoped would never appear – I saw it, there was the nervous lick, tormenting me with the desire to possess your mouth. Never have I wanted to kiss anyone so much.

Something distracted me from that thought, a flicker in your eyes, the lift of your eyebrow, I should have been prepared. “I said I love you, punk” and as I was soaking it all in, the look on your face (I **now** know it was mischief) intensified. “You mean we never?”

I was nearly crushed thinking some faulty memory or worse, Hydra command, was making you believe; driving your intentions to play a role. I tried to push it down with the only weapon I had – honesty. “Oh Bucky” with all of my love at the ready, “God no – but Oh how I wish we had!” I’d never laid my soul quite so bare as then, waiting for the blow.

“You mean that Steve?” you looked so eager, it soothed my anxiety.

“More than I ever thought possible,” I really needed to know, though, “– but if you’re misremembering things?”

When your smile returned and you said, “Nah – pullin’ your leg on that” I could have cried. When you continued, “I was always too terrified. Afraid you’d hate me or worse that you’d be harmed if you returned my feelings.”

I felt horrible that you had to suffer such fear, like I said I’d always seen you as larger than life. “I couldn’t hate you Bucky. I coulda taken any shit anyone gave me. You should know that.”

“You’da tried – half as big as you are now” there was that smile, it was fond, familiar, as ancient as our history and I wasn’t exasperated by it like I once was.

I felt too far away, needed to be closer and wanted to let you know I love all of you when I took your hand, firm and cool and eerily beautiful, holding it gently and firmly and _feeling_ whole. “Bucky, I never really knew that what I felt for you was – well, _this_. As far as I knew it was perfectly normal to love you as much as I do and honestly only realized today exactly what my feelings for you are about. I love strongly, Buck. I loved Peggy; loved/love you. I don’t think that if anyone ever told me either love was wrong I’d believed them.”

”I don’t just love you as a brother Stevie,” when your free hand went to my face and when you finally touched me everything I said was affirmed, “I want you to be mine in every fathomable way. I want, like I’ve never wanted before, to kiss you senseless.”

“Well?” I goaded you, “What are you waitin’ for?” your kiss leveled me.

 

* * *

 

 

Sleepless nights aren’t uncommon. In fact, sleeping through is the foreign concept. The causes are generally all of the weight that comes with this “job” that I’ve become. Tonight is the exception, tonight the cause was simply love and thoughts and memories of today with you. So I was awake when I got your text. A text from you made me mostly certain it wasn’t an emergency – that would merit a call, right? So when I read it: “Steve, I love you.” It was so nice to not feel alone in the night and my feelings and so much better than an emergency. When you said a nightmare had you awake I wanted to call, to soothe any residual feelings and more I wanted to do it from by your side. I’ve waited over a year to find you, to have you return to me, I can wait any amount of time for you to feel ready to share a home again.

I know it won’t be the same but in a lot of ways the differences will be good. We can deal with the negative aspects of our histories, together, more importantly; we can build positive futures, together.

You know we’re going to have to have ourselves an honest to god first date. I think we both live in a world where there’s already pressure on us – how ‘bout we just plan it together so neither of us has to be stressed about making our date the perfect thing.

Hell, I’m really going to need that coffee in the morning. I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

 

* * *

 

 I was still awake when it came time for my run with Sam. I met him and he knew I hadn’t slept. He called me on it “Didn’t get any resolution? If you wanna talk, I’m here.”

“Nah, Sam. It’s not like that. In fact yesterday was impossibly amazing, probably just the rush from that.”

“Do tell.” He smirked; possibly knowing more about how yesterday would play out before even I did. He’s pretty intuitive. Maybe I’m just that transparent.

“You were right Sam, the girl at the coffee shop was right, I’m head over heels for my best friend. To be honest I still didn’t know what I was going to do with that information and I'd decided not to do anything.”

He schooled his features so quickly but I didn’t miss the disappointment he tried to shove behind the guise of supportive friend. “Bucky found me. He told me first.”

“I’d guessed he might feel the same, he never said it in the journals but there were entries where I think he was trying to remember it. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

“I hate more and more what they did to him.”

“You’re getting close to ending all those involved.”

“I don’t think it will be satisfying for either of us Sam.”

“I never thought it would be but what was yesterday for you Steve? For him? You need to focus on that. Taking down Hydra has burned in you for so long when it’s done what will you have? Take your satisfaction from this good in your life. Just end them so no one else will suffer, but like Barnes said – do it with your team. Just know, neither of you can rest the fate of your happiness on any of that.” Sam's right, of course, and I think you’re already doin' a better job of making your way once the past is reconciled. I’m going to need to look to you for the skills to do that.

"How'bout you? You're always running clean up for the two of us, it seems? How did your date go the other night?"

"That went much better than all of your drama. Tonight makes the fourth time we've gone out. She's surprising me with plans and I'm going to be sure to enjoy it - whether or not it's something I wanted to do."

"What are the chances? You think you'd have a fourth date with someone who couldn't plan a good date for the two of you?"

"I'm confident that I've chosen a better girlfriend than you have." he goaded.

"How long have you been waiting to use that?"

"Oh no... that just happened. That's why it's gold."

I've been back from my run for about an hour, I keep thinking about kisses and I can't seem to settle down. It’s nearly time to head out for coffee. I’ve been stilling my fidgety fingers with this note. Wonder if you’d like a ride to coffee? Gonna call and wake your ass up now to find out.

 

* * *

 

Coffee escalated into a little something more.

Bucky, I’m sorry I lost control, but I’m not sorry. Watching you is a heady experience and you’re entirely too tempting. There I was, just sitting next to you, our legs were just barely touching and I could pay attention to it, and how it made me feel instead of having to shove it aside. Still it might not have been the best game plan for a public place. There you were, indulging in your waffle with “extra cream” and I was catapulted back to the day we were introduced to the decadence of fresh cream and the days after that when you wanted it (and complained about not having it).

I’m constantly reminded of the successes you’re having in your recovery, I’m so proud. Even if you didn’t remember the story you had a little glimmer of recollection from a piece of it and that is worth celebrating. I wanted to celebrate you, us, so I kissed you, then I was brave enough and you welcomed when I touched you intimately, briefly. When you stopped anything further with reasons I don’t need to know but am glad you want to share, I understood.

I hope you didn’t misconstrue my suggestion that things might not be as they seem, that your arousal isn’t a product of the withdrawals from the cocktail Hydra forced on you, but because of us. I wasn’t trying in any way to discount your feelings, only to offer another possibility. You must know I’m willing to wait as long as you need.

It wasn’t even my plan to ask you to move in, not yet. When the topic vaguely came up at the coffee shop in conversation, the words were out of my mouth before I could think. Now that it’s out, I’m happy you’ve not only considered it but that you have decided to stay here. It’s taking every ounce of power within me to not go in and bother you, check up on you, see you, touch you. That’s going to get easier, but tonight is the first night. Today is the first day in a very long time that we spent as much time together. It was a good day, even if it has been slightly challenging for both of us.

Hearing you tell of the Hydra cocktail – man I got angry – I’ve never felt quite so infuriated, and I’m not too big to admit that I’ve had a lot of occasions for righteous fury, I’ve even got a list of people you could ask about that. I wanted to march right out into the day and crack some heads.

Sparring at the gym helped a lot with that rage, and with the sexual frustration - at least some of the time. I've already said watching you is intoxicating, at least sparring I have to watch _for_  specific things and you don't pull punches not any longer. We really seem to be well matched in so many things now, it's like we were supposed to come here in this time in this way. I just wish some of the garbage could have been avoided.

Knowing you've agreed to move in and that you're just in the other room, I’m a huge bundle of nerves - I’m a mess. I think a snack is in order, since I can’t do what I’d rather and just find you for some cuddle time. When did I ever say cuddle? Hm…, too much TV, I guess. But it still sounds great to me.


	17. Making Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve reflecting on having a hot new roommate and keeping his promise to let Bucky determine the timing for sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much more detail can be found for after their second date in Bucky's Journal chapter [14\. Settling In](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/11922125)

I love surprise moments with you Buck. Deep conversations or movie time on the sofa under a blanket, if this is how life gets to be, I’m going to be a very happy man.

I was surprised when I went out to fix a snack, to find you sitting on the floor; I was also a little distracted by your open posture as you looked through the books, on the shelf. The ones I’d craved having when I thought I’d lost you. The ones I read and reread to hear your voice in my head from all the times you’d read to me when I was too sick or weak to hold a book for myself. They were never my choice of reading but they made a bad thing good back then. So, with this gift of your voice in my head to hear over and over again reading them in this century brought me comfort. The books that, once I knew you were alive; I wanted to keep safe for you.

You were there in your pajama pants and a loose tee, barefoot and tousled. I could see attempts to sleep in that tangle of hair, failure at the attempts in your tired eyes. I wanted to kiss your troubles away but thought my initial reason for leaving my own bed would be a safer venture. “…came out for a snack, you hungry?”

I called you the love of my life, you didn’t react with much more than a brief look, but that look was precious. You didn’t once make me feel like a fool for my words or actions so I might be OK with this sharing my emotions thing. Openly, at least with you, it gets tiresome always keeping my feelings to myself.

Watching you rise from your spot was like watching a lion stretch. Smooth, limber, primal – I turned toward the kitchen before I made either of us uncomfortable. Confident in my ability to make those pancakes you’d hinted at earlier, I was able to distract myself by pulling out the ingredients for a scratch batch – you won’t find a mix around here, ma would haunt me til the end of my days. I’ve had enough experience with inexplicable shit – I believe she would do it.

The conversation was equally distracting and even though the topic got a little dark, monsters under the bed – real monsters grown men can be frightened of and killing as a normal part of life. I really do relate to both of these. I have an idea to help with the monsters. The other, we’ll work on together or separately with one another’s support. It amuses me that we also talked about the virtues of a fine blanket. Interesting topics to discuss over pancakes, but it was all real, not forced conversation, so it was good. Then I found a movie we could watch without thinking of real life monsters or killing while we appreciated a good blanket and the comfort of one another on a cozy sofa.

Watching the movie “The Princess Bride” with you was as great as I had thought it would be. When I saw it the first time, I thought of all those times that I was the little shit stuck in bed and you were grousing about my complaints. I knew it was a movie you’d have enjoyed and at the time I was heartbroken. When I found it tonight and remembered my ‘no monsters’ clause, I sort of rewrote the rules because I really did want to watch it with you. I figured fantasy monsters would be acceptable. Luckily for me, they were.

When you sat right at my side, I was warmed, when you took my hand, I was delighted. As the movie progressed and I was able to put my arm around your shoulders and you relaxed into me deeper, I was home. More home than I’d ever been.

* * *

I don’t even know why I still write these. I talk with you, telling you my feelings, and then here in the quiet moments I repeat so many things we’ve experienced together that you can’t possibly be interested in reading about. I guess this has officially become my journal and I should stop putting the pages in envelopes with your name on them. I’m a sap though and will probably not do that.

The past week has only been a minor adjustment. Those first few days we kept apologizing around each other. ‘Oh, was I interrupting? I’m sorry’. ‘I’m sorry if I took too long in the shower’. ‘Was I too loud while you were trying to sleep? I didn’t mean to be, I apologize’. I think we’ve laughed them off so much that soon neither of us will be sure whether we should apologize for something or not. I feel like we’re just about past that, things are starting to feel a bit more natural.

That first day was emotional and a bit agonizing. Waking on the sofa to the sounds of the shower, then a long, long silence coming from the bathroom first startled [new noises] then concerned [the duration of quiet after the shower went off was almost traumatizing] me, but I waited a long while before moving to just check and see if you were OK.

Oh you were better than OK, coming out as I yawned, about to knock, with your shirt in hand, your hair clinging wetly around your neck, bare chested and clean shaven. There was the first shower apology. It really took me more than a minute to soak it all in, especially the kisses.

You fixed breakfast while I showered away as much of my frustration as I could. I then opened the door to yet more temptation seeing you cooking, wearing nothing but your pajama bottoms. Even then, it felt so nice, so perfect to work together in the kitchen, to tease one another and to sit together at the breakfast table.

Moving you in – toting boxes alongside each other was rewarding in itself, but your doubt when everything was put away out of sight, concerned about your belongings ‘taking over’ the space – no, Bucky. No-no-no. You belong here. You don’t deserve to be locked in a room, unseen. You never have to be that way again. I’ll always see you. Your things should spice up our home any way that you would like. I’m almost certain I got my point across. You matter. You belong here in the world. You, Bucky, you deserve to be seen.

It’s been good to see you as you’re working, to know you’re finding comfort and are able to resume your routine in our home, it’s reassuring. It’s also kind of nice to just watch you do what you know – and to see your process when something you don’t know comes up. Your problem solving skills are admirable and your features when you’re concentrating are just adorable. I can say that – this is my journal. You have your adorable moments. Deal with it.

I was really interested in all you had to say about how you built your business. Interested and proud. It feels like you really enjoy it, but from the sounds of it, you just enjoy knowing _how_ to do it and would like to do something else, teach. I think you’d be an amazing teacher and I’ll back you all the way. We just need to get your official life squared away.

I’m sorry I lost control when you were counting on me and my anger reared its ugly head when you were talking about the government – but the thought of you going to prison infuriates me. It’s not you, please understand. I don’t do helpless well, you know that, and with this I feel utterly helpless. I can’t see any of that for you, I won’t stand for it. You brighten my entire existence. You shine in your will to move forward and I **will** make sure that your dreams come true.

I’m glad we decided to put the negativity of the uncertain future aside and went on our first date; I took you to a place that I love for dinner and when we were about to leave, you suggested dancing. The way you lit up – how could I resist. The dancing – oh my god – I _can_ wait for you, I honestly can but the dancing and kissing, so openly and so erotically, really made coming home and going to bed alone a challenge. If the passion we share when we’re not even trying is any indication, when we can finally be together it’s going to level me.

When I woke last night from the hour or two that passes for sleep, I wandered toward the bathroom. On my way I found you on the sofa, fast asleep sprawled out over the blanket with a book lying open. Smiling at the safety you must feel, I pulled the other blanket over you and kissed your forehead, brushing your hair from your face. You didn’t wake, just burrowed deeper into your slumber. I envied your ability to sleep, but on further consideration I realize you’re probably only getting moments more than I am.

There’s currently an unmistakably delightful smell wafting through the place and as tempted as I am to go find out what it is, I’m sure you’re in the kitchen half-dressed, cooking and reading. I’m positive because the last time I went to inspect the source of what was tantalizing my senses I was more than rewarded for my curiosity. I can’t just say you’re not allowed to be half naked in your own home, but for chrissake Buck, put on a damned shirt. Ok. See? A journal is a good place for such frustrations.

I’m kind of excited to see what you have in store for our second date but does it have to be a surprise? I don’t love not knowing. Today should be very interesting.

* * *

 

You sap, you crazy hopeless sap. Really? Coney Island? How can I not love you?

When you offered to release me from my surprise angst with a trade of driving to the park, well, pal, you traded something for nothing. You can drive any time.

It was actually the greatest idea anyone could have. I have to admit; on the way to the amusement park today I had misgivings. I know how things change and I was worried that it would be too much change for you, for me even. I was glad when we found that there were still things we could remember together and I was relieved that those things weren’t rundown and neglected.

I have thank you for bringing me joy. Watching you was a big part of the joy for me, watching 70 plus another dozen years fall away from you making you the biggest kid there. At times it was like chasing a puppy, you were so energetic and oh, it makes me so happy to see you that way.

I loved watching you, running after you, and laughing with you. Your excitement over the food and about the rides was contagious. You practically danced with joy finding Nathan’s still operating and you were so ridiculous about buying us both Brooklyn Rock tees. I just wish I could give you a gift as fine as your happiness was for me today.

I want to do this every day. I want your happiness to be a daily thing.

When we ended our date on the beach with cotton candy kisses and promises for things I’ve only dreamed of, I was nervous and horny like a hormonal teen. I really hope I didn’t come across that way, especially when I practically attacked you in the stairwell at home.

I had been sitting as close as was humanly possible on the ride home, my legs just barely astride your fantastic ass on the bike. When we got to the stairs, I grabbed you for a kiss, my hands wandering, seeking your waist, your hips, that very ass, then watching your movements as you sprinted up the stairs, I still couldn’t keep my hands off you, dragging you back down the two step lead you’d managed to obtain.

Pressing you into the railing wasn’t my best moment, could have backfired in the worst possible way, but your return kisses reassure me still that what I’d done this time was OK. When your knee split my legs, I worried I was about to be tossed across the landing, instead I was propelled across the staircase and went from you being secured against a barrier to me, completely trapped against the wall. I had guessed (incorrectly) that you were trying to frighten me with your smiled “So this is how you want to do this?” Still, I’m not afraid of you.

“Give me your worst.”

Your pride and beauty were palpable “I’m not going to fuck you in the stairwell, we’re proud-not gonna do the cliché hiding.” Your biting kisses stirred me further, straining at my cock feeling your arousal pressing against my own.

Getting to the apartment and to my room was nearly blurred with my arousal and urgency. I remember vaguely being told to choose a room. That and being told “I want to see you strip.”

I wanted to comply but I wanted to see you. When you promised to do the same for me, it made stripping down easier, knowing I would be rewarded too. The striptease ended up being a back and forth trade winding into us taking each other’s pants off. Touching, delicious silken touches traded as we were finally stripped of all our clothes.

I wanted things to be perfect and they were more. That first time our cocks brushed against each other nearly undid me. I was ready to just fold, but remembered how much we both wanted to be the best for each other. For that moment, as much as I wanted to touch you – I was hesitant. There were so many scenario running through my mind, I wanted perfection and I was over analyzing. “Touch me Steve. Anywhere, any way you want. Touch me.” That permission was all I needed to wake up to what I was doing next.

It was beautiful and unrushed. I wanted a little rushed but now that the moment is done, I’m so glad you were more patient and must have known that I’d appreciate it later. You and me, Buck. We fit. I just fucking love fucking you and being so thoroughly fucked by you. So profound, I know but that’s the truth boiled down to the basics. You’re beautiful. Being inside you – the most heated, delicious thing yet being filled by you… I don’t ever really want to have to choose! God, just writing this is causing me to get hard.

I was nearly devastated when you moved from my grasp, you were reassuring, “Stay right here, ok sweetheart?”

“Mm.hm… wait, where-?” the last fucking thing I wanted was you to leave my side.

When you came back and cleaned us both off, if I hadn’t been hopelessly in love with you... you took time to give me care, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, given my previous life when you would always care for me, but it still made me love you all the more.

Making me even happier?

                “You could stay with me tonight… would you?”

                “I can’t think of anything that would make me happier. I’ve wanted to stay with you since I moved in. I’ve wanted you since then and beyond.”

Also there was the mutual reassurance that this had met our individual expectations, which definitely made me happy.

Waking up in the middle of the day after sleeping through the night in your arms is something to be looked into.


	18. Sundays

I didn’t want to wake, afraid in my sleep muddled state that I’d dreamed everything, including the pillow of your arm. Maybe if I just stayed there with my eyes closed and kept my breathing level, maybe the dream wouldn’t leave me. You made a vague movement and I was relieved, burrowing into your neck, feeling your pulse at my temple, knowing you were real and here.

I gripped tighter, holding you for all the times I couldn’t. Your hand on my head, holding me as closely as I needed to be to you was so reassuring and grounding, your arousal was another beacon and I grasped it and possessed you. Possessed you by pinning you to the bed, careful to be gentle and not send the wrong message. Careful to leave you the freedom to choose, keeping your arms unbound so that you could physically if you were unable to verbally stop me. This meant too much to me to be the cause if you were to panic – I kept it light and still urgent. I tasted your warm skin, felt your muscles responding to my kisses as your breath caught. Each time you would sigh or purr or what the fuck ever those sounds were it spurred me on.

Tasting you – feeling your every little reaction, the way your ab muscles undulated as my tongue found your navel and dipped, sweetness to be savored again and again – was all of my fantasies and yet I had the audacity to have more. Releasing just your right shoulder, I might have been making a statement, I touched – handled – manhandled you, causing you to try to hurry what I had no intention of rushing so I released your left shoulder to pin your hip to the bed with my hand. No rushing this.

“…plenty of time to take care of you Buck. Patience baby.” I warned and encouraged, catching (almost getting lost in) your shuttered gaze before looking over your fine cock, contemplating and anticipating the taste of you here too. This was something new – a new dream and a new fantasy that I was so hungry for. One hand feeling and massaging the heaviness of your balls, the other keeping your squirming hips to a minimum, all I needed was to taste. That taste – so exotic – what it must have done to you too, you seemed desperate as you grasped my hair trying to commandeer my strategy and I had to stifle a groan when you tugged trying to pull me closer. I was torn between allowing you to take over, to be rough, but I was also determined to stick to the plan. I want to remember this always. I want you to read this and think of me. Just like how, on some of these recent sleepless nights I would look for things just like this on the internet and think of you.

I’m glad I stuck with the plan. Your pleasure was exquisite, the things you did to me after, oh. my. god.

You were such a prick, lazily taking your time, making me blush over and over just to trace the stupid traitorous flood of color over my body. So, yes, I enjoyed the sensation of your hands and your mouth exploring –And when I tried to change your tactic, you pulled the memory/recovery shit – you devious little…

                “Patience doll… ‘m doing something I’ve waited decades to do, don’t rush me – the light is perfect for this.”

                “The fuck are you doin? Painting a picture?”

                “In a way, yes. Found a memory and I’m building on it. You wouldn’t wanna interfere with recovery would ya Stevie?”

Fuck! I was so fucking hard, I’d worked myself up pretty damned good sucking you off, you little bastard.

What? Is that unfair? I wanted my leisure with you but wanted you to get me off as soon as you started. Yeah. I wanted that but I also really **desired** the attention you were giving me, every fervent moment of it. In the end, it could have gone either way and I’d be in a happy frame of mind – and now, with a calm head and sated body, I can honestly say I prefer your option to my rushed and butchered version of what I thought I wanted.

When you were done, when we were finished and you crawled up to snuggle into my neck, I couldn’t believe we were here. You take away the anger, the madness. I don’t have to be a prickly bastard with you; I’m not fighting anything with you, not any longer. You soothe my thoughts. I hope I’m as good for you and your wellbeing as you are for me and mine. Sometimes I still don’t say everything but sometimes I think what I do say is ok. Like when I wondered how I could start a day differently, or when I was holding you in my arms and said I like Sundays.

I don’t actually care about the day of the week, I like any day when we’re both having a good day and we can have it together. This has been the best week of my life and though I know it’s been a pretty easy one, I know you’re safe. I now know what feelings have been driving me.

Now the plan has to be to get you there, to your place of safety in the world.


	19. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion to Bucky's Journal Chapter [16\. Flowers & Kisses are Just Distractions](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/12192209) (2015-11-25)

Backfired. That was an understatement on how my plan worked. What a fuck up. I’ve been trying too hard, wanting too much too quickly and I fucked things up.

When I told you about the meetings I’d set up I had thought you’d be happy, Buck, really. I realized you might, instead, be nervous but accepting, which was the only alternative I considered, I didn’t consider the possibility that you’d be pissed. I understand it now in hindsight but then, I was so caught up in making things _right_ that I didn’t realize what I was actually doing was making decisions for you.

To make matters worse, I wasn’t able to see this until almost bludgeoned with reality. I was dumbfounded when you started yelling, arguing and trying to explain – all I heard was you comparing me to Hydra and I lost it.

This pit of burning anger, or rage, that I can’t always rein in burst open and I crossed the room to – I don’t even know what my end game was. I caused you fear and you had a breakdown. I’ll always remember how you went from argumentative to looking like a trapped animal in the flash of a moment. I’ll always remember how you went blank for a flash before fumbling to try to escape. To escape me.

I was able to come away from my own darkness and reach you in yours – a blessing I’ll always be grateful for “I’m so sorry Buck. You’re safe, it’s ok to be afraid but fuck, please don’t be afraid of me.” I called out, my heart ripped open. I sank to my knees in front of you baring my soul with my tears.

Further wrecking me, you were crying now, “I can’t Steve. You can’t do this. You can’t go taking command over me. Nobody has that right, not ever again. If you don’t understand that – then we… we got nothin.”

And Oh God Buck – I – I hate that I ever put you in that position. Even now, when we’re still not seeing eye-to-eye on how to move forward, but I now admit it’s not my place to drive this thing so I’ll have to learn a new skill. Waiting.

As you came away from wherever it is you were about to recede to, you started to emotionally withdraw from me. I couldn’t let that happen but I couldn’t get in your face again. It was your near physical collapse that let me back in, that opened you up to my apology as I helped keep you on your feet and into your room.

I promised you, swore never to put you in that place again – and as hard as it is to wait, to be patient, a promise to you is the one thing I’ll never give up on.

The afternoon was shot – but you were at least able to get some fitful sleep. I just stayed there, holding you and thinking. Thinking of all the ways to make right what I’d gotten so wrong. All while still piecing together the things that started the whole mess, because I know you’ll need the planning when you’re ready and since I couldn’t turn the thoughts off, I worked through them some more. By the time you’d roused hours later, I’d almost drifted off.

The near panic attack that you suffered all over again when we started talking about what had happened, you tried so hard to be brave about it by bringing it up when I wasn’t going to, that second attack almost tore my heart out. You’re clearly not ready as much as I wish you could be.

The second time you slept, I actually fell asleep to your snoring. Yeah, you snore – but it’s kind of endearing. (Don’t go rolling your eyes again). When I woke and found you gone, it was my turn to nearly fall to pieces –I woke in a strange place (since we’d gone to your room and not ‘ours’) and it was dark and I was alone. The panic was almost set when I started obsessing that you might have had too much of everything and decided to take off, disappearing from me again. I fought the panic with real thoughts, by getting up to go looking for you. You’ll never know the sheer relief I felt when I found you in the kitchen – looking at the project that set this all off. You were still here. That’s the only thing I care about.

When the phone rang as we worked dinner and making out into a possible sex romp in the kitchen, I’ve never experienced such an intense resistance to answer, disinterest in reporting for duty, the urge to ignore the call stronger than any motivation I can remember in my life (or would that be lives?). The day had been shit and the night finally promised to be better. When I found out it would instead be spent across the world from you in a fucking rain forest I almost gave in and quit. The thought was so strong yet I resisted. After all, this benefits you and your future. Hydra had set up in a cave of all things – at least they’re being run off – it just makes chasing them so much more ridiculous.

Sam caught my mood right away, Natasha must have suspected something too as she spent almost as much time trying to wheedle out of me what plans I was so bent out of shape about this ruining as she did on the mission plans. She didn’t do it to the best of her ability, or she’d be on our doorstep. She may have just been trying to be a friend and distract me from my mood, because face it, for Avengers, this call looked more like a training mission. I grumbled to Sam about that too.

We landed in a deforested area that looked charred and barren with the exception of some straggling cattle, nothing seemed to be growing, grasses looked broken and dying in place of what should have been lush rain forests like we’d just flown over. We had to travel a short distance on foot to cross a ravine to where the cave was located. Amazing all of us, we managed to get closer to the entrance than anticipated before being detected. Sam inspected the cliff and the other side of the mountain to ensure there was no obvious second point of exit, confirming it was just as the reports had indicated. Barton was on lookout from the front and was poised to come in for combat as needed which left Natasha and me on the ground.

Just to get inside, we had to engage with a small force in full-on hand-to-hand combat, I was grateful for Natasha as a partner. She’s an amazingly skilled fighter and we’ve learned to fight together very well, I’m especially glad she was along on this mission. Because of this we were able to enter relatively smoothly (we were grateful for a bit of help from Barton and his archery skills – I'd wager you and he would be a pretty competitive match-up).

Once we were all inside the cave we all had our parts to play – Sam and Barton were to disable anyone who could interfere, Natasha manned the computer files again (she’s a godsend). We’d also have the luxury of using her espionage skills later as she would get to work the target, Javier Maldonado a South American Hydra leader, over once we returned with him. Inside we were able to actually focus on our tasks, the number of guards was suspiciously low and we by no means let our guard down.

I located Maldonado in a newly excavated area of the cave. He’d leapt into a hole and was crouched low. I heard the sounds of hurried breaths and a clicking sound. I stopped at the edge of the hole that was a poor excuse for a foxhole if that was its intended use. I peered inside, seeing him struggling at the buckle on his holster. This man is a leader? I reached down and hauled the target out of his hidey-hole by a leather covered shoulder. The man was, well, pretty pathetic really. As I steadied him on his feet, he stood taller than me yet he was practically cowering. His painful disadvantage almost made things feel a little too one-sided until he found his bravado in insults and sputtering curses. It turns out he knew you, not only knew you but had some indication of your importance to me. He used that to try to make me kill him with his ugly threats of what he could do to you to get you back into the fold. I was so fucking close to snapping his neck Buck. Not my finest moment.

“Steve” Sam called out from close enough he could have whispered and I’d hear. “Cap! Not part of the mission, don’t let this ass get what he wants.”

I threw the guy at Sam. Maldonado grunted as Sam side-stepped and he hit the uneven ground, hard. Sam then hauled him back to his feet by the collar then worked with Barton to restrain him as I moved to seek out Natasha. A move that was more to defuse my own fury than anything since I could have checked in by comm.

I had to stop for a bit before rounding the cavern opening to check my anger and fucking tears that had sprung from some of the things he’d said as I’d walked away about your “stay” with them. Luckily, hearing the sound of a boot to the rib cage helped with my moment of mental inventory. I’d have to see who to thank later, I suspected it was Sam – he likes you.

“Checking up on me Steve?” Natasha asked while she continued dismantling the system after downloading all the data. “Some of this tech is beyond what Stark has – thought he’d like to take a look.”

“Yeah, checking up” I tossed her the bag she left near the entrance “Barton’s got Maldonado – they’re headed out. Sam will cover him then return to cover us, you about done here?”

“Just stick with me Steve.” She threw the bag over her shoulder having shoved the tech into the bag. “I’m not convinced there aren’t more around here somewhere. Getting in was too easy.”

Not that I hadn’t had the same thoughts – but the smile I gave her made her sock me in the shoulder as she passed. I couldn’t help it. Even though she kicks ass and I wouldn’t intentionally start shit with her, the thought that I would need her protection made me smile… possibly because I know she could do it. Has done it.

We were correct, getting in was relatively easy. However, as Barton and Sam had gotten out, from what they’d told us when we were debriefing on the flight back, no sooner than they’d cleared the ravine, two trucks had rolled up to the cave, the troop mover was loaded with masked, uniformed soldiers and the other vehicle held about 5 or 6. We could, quite possibly, be fucked.

The speed with which they unloaded from the truck was impressive and terrifying; Natasha and I fought closely, using the techniques that we’ve developed together between actual battles and training sessions, but this was threatening to get the best of both of us. I heard a shot and felt the burn and the tearing practically simultaneously. I fought on, feeling the pull and the twinge – it was just a scratch – keep fighting. More gunfire, yet we seemed to be lucking out until another shot hit my shoulder. That one burned longer and made fighting difficult, painful. I was nearing the point where I might consider surrendering if it would get Nat out when Sam swooped in, guns blazing.

I saw Natasha miss a step as a bullet grazed her thigh. Sam kept firing, clearing a path for us to get out of the ravine. Once we had a clear out, Sam lifted Nat and flew out while I ran through, tossing the remainder of the comers aside as I passed. I nearly buckled as another bullet flew from the direction of one of the trucks behind us. This one struck my calf. God damn I hate getting shot. Sam had to double back for me once he had Natasha secured. I’m glad he did or I wouldn’t be here to tell about it, they were that close.

I tried to stay involved in the debriefing, between the flagging adrenaline, bleeding wounds and the leering face of Maldonado threatening to spout more bullshit; I just wanted to be far, far away from this whole thing. I managed to keep my attention on the details though and contribute appropriately as we simultaneously accomplished doctoring our injuries. I only _barely_ succeeded though as my thoughts were at home. I wanted to be with you, where I should be. I wanted to be there for you more than any greater good. All I had to do to shake the feeling was to remember what Maldonado had said about your time with them, his involvement, and I could remember it wasn’t about the greater good. It was for you.

Sam dropped me at the apartment with promises to bring breakfast and coffee tomorrow. Wearily I made my way up the stairs, keys in my hand, I was barely out of the stairwell when it dawned on me our door was wide open. There was a draft in the hallway that I couldn’t place. I was instantly alert, my tired brain and body snapping to attention as I checked each dark corner of the hallway before cautiously entering the apartment. I set my bags at the door and took up my shield. I systematically ruled out any threats from each room in our place and remembered the draft in the hall. The roof – if the door was open the draft could be from the roof. I was aching and frightened of what I might find. I saw no sign of struggle; I was going to presume your safety. I softly called your name from the top of the stairs, announcing my presence before stepping out of the open door, in case I might startle you. I didn’t know what state you’d be in, or if you were even still there and safe. I took every precaution. I stepped out onto the roof; the sky was darker than when I came in, the sun setting and glistening golden off of your forearm. I was so relieved to see you there. You looked peaceful and beautiful as you turned to my call. As you approached, you looked pale in the light, your lips were purplish blue, good god Buck how long had you been there?

You crossed the rooftop to pull me into a tight embrace, too tight for my battered, not yet healed injuries; but not too tight for my battered spirit. I just wanted to sink into your hold and forget everything. You relaxed your hold on me – I wanted the tight grasp back - “you’re hurt – you didn’t seek first aid? You fool, come on.” Your chilled hands soothing my aches, then reality set in, you were terribly cold.

“I’m the fool? You’re freezin’ Buck.” I pushed your sleeves down to cover your arms, rubbing your forearms to warm you.

“I’ve been colder – come inside.” I gave in to the exhaustion that physically and emotionally were dragging me down and let you support my weight. “Yeah, you’re an idiot.” I heard you practically laugh.

When you led me to our room and started removing my gear I tried to focus on you, your hands were freezing. I stopped you from continuing, taking your hands to try to warm them in mine. You’re the idiot, I swear to god Buck. “You’re freezing; your hands are like ice.”

“Metal. No worries.” You’re such a jerk.

“Only this one.” I tried furiously warming your hand, “This one is almost as cold dumbass.”

You brushed me off, telling me I was more important, hell bent on cleaning my wounds, ‘blood beats frostbite’, seriously? You continued undressing me, checking each bruise and puncture. I promise they were much less than they had been.

“Sit right here, don’t move.” You ordered as you escaped to the bathroom.

“I’ll be fine in a bit, Buck. Come back in here.”

As you came back with warm wet cloths and first aid supplies I resisted smiling, “you’ll be fine – yes – but cleaning this is still important. You’ll let me do this.” You stood close, putting your hand, significantly warmer now, on my neck. It was still chilled but felt good on my aching muscles, the strength in your fingers working the knots there.

“See, already warming, let me care for you. I take it the world is safe again?”

“Yeah, seems so. You’re worrying too much.” I felt like it was “then” again, you caring for what ails me. I mourned the loss of your fingers kneading my neck but the warm clean cloths doctoring my scrapes also felt nostalgic and beautiful. I know I grumbled about it but that’s not new either is it?

“… I did a better job putting holes in you. I know you’ll pull through.” Your kiss on my forehead was new, the wish of lifetimes granted, “I was so relieved to see you.”

I pulled you to me, holding closely, “I was relieved to find **you**. You never answered your phone.” I rested my head on your chest, listening to your heart. I was very relieved. When you put your chin on my head, I could have just sacked out there, slept for another 70 years, I was so tired and so glad to have you there.

“I didn’t realize I’d left it in the apartment. I was having a hard time waiting. I think I just checked out, you called me?”

“You said check in. Don’t be a dope, of course I called.”

You continued to fuss over me, I wanted you to continue; I wanted you to stop and we could just forget the world together, I was tired and willing to just let you linger over my wounds. When you suggested a shower, it was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want to move from where we were, me on the bed, you standing close, holding onto each other. I could just go on and on as we were in that moment.

Your insistence prevailed, urging me into a shower next before I could have given up and opted for going to bed smelling like battle. Something about standing together in the steamy shower and your continued worship of my body as you lathered, washed and investigated my injuries again invigorated me, thoughts of sleep moved to the back of my mind as other thoughts and feelings took over. Kissing you became the most important thing in the world, the feel of my arms sliding around your waist, pulling you close and lazily tracing your jaw with my teeth and tongue sustaining me.

Your languid return of my kisses drove me to explore your body under the stream of water, sliding my hands over skin and firm muscles, rough scarring and temperate, smooth metal, learning what every inch of you felt like when silky and wet. Taking the soap from your hands I returned the favor of soaping you, watching as you watched my hands sliding over the slight curves of your body. You finally looked into my eyes as I glided my hands along your firm ass, gripping and kneading, holding you close as you wrapped your legs around my hips. I could look into those eyes for eternity, when your pupils are blown from what I do to you. You’re beautiful Buck. I couldn’t look away as my fingers sought and found and worked your hole, your greed separated our gaze, you arched into my hand taking more and demanding even more as you tormented me by gliding along the length of my cock – so teasing and sensual.

When you planted your hands on my shoulders and pushed your entire body up so that you were looming over me I should have expected what came next but I was still watching you with wonder. When you lowered settling me fully inside you, I stilled with a gasp. Here I thought I was in control, as a reminder I tried to still your hips, gripping tightly – making marks that would be gone before morning – yet what you were doing was so damned good, I could only pretend pout. I should have expected it when you pulled that second pushup on my shoulders, nearly pulling me from you, but I didn’t expect it. I wasn’t too shocked to miss the chance to grasp you tighter and tug your hips to mine. Judging by the kisses that complemented our consecutive orgasms, it was the right move.

I gave myself willingly when you dried my skin – watching you with awe and love, remembering all the times you’d care for my wounds and ailments and worrying a little thinking about how you’d had to do it without showing the blatant adoration I was seeing now.

“Do I bother patching any of these up?”

I wanted in on that – I wanted to worship your body – dry your skin, I took the towel from your hands, “no, they’ll be fine – you’ve already done so much. Let me just take you to bed.”

“I’m taking care of you today Steve.” You ordered, taking the towel back, letting me know in no uncertain terms that you were giving back what I’d given when you’d faced your own darkness. Because I knew you’d been upset about my injuries, I let it drop without issue. Just as I let you lead me by the hand from the bathroom to the bedroom. I was still more tired than I was willing to worry about which role I should be taking, caregiver or recipient. I wanted to save my energy for when you took **me** to bed.

You took me to bed so you could continue being a mother hen, picking up my uniform and putting things away, leaving me to lie there on the bed exposed and feeling needy.

“Bucky, you can’t take care of me from clear over there.” It was supposed to be a gentle reminder, since you looked like you were on a mission to clean up every bit of evidence of my being injured, but I’m afraid it came out sounding ragged and tired.

You turned to face me standing at the dresser, your smile both sweet and heated “You angling for something or just want me to tuck you in?”

“You really wanna know? I want… you to come… over here –”

I watched you approach the foot of the bed. Leaning on the edge leading with your left hand you started to crawl, catlike and sensual across the bed. I had the best view as you approached, I lifted my foot to run it up your arm and you tickled my foot as you grabbed it, moving your fingers along the arch, your skin finally warm, steady fingers firm and kneading. I sucked in a breath at the mix of pleasure, pain and still a vague tickle. I could hardly take my eyes off your fingers as they massaged my foot, as they circled my ankle, I dared look away to seek your face, just as your hair fell over your eye. I was lost as your eyes traveled from my ankle up my leg as your other hand repeated the same actions with my other foot, I tried willing you to look at me, I wanted to see the passion in your eyes as I predicted your next move, I needed to see what burned in your eyes.

It was probably good you didn’t look at me yet, with the thrill that shuddered through me when you laid kisses on my thighs, I was just able to reach to my left and pull the nightstand drawer open. After my fingers fumbled briefly in the corner missing then catching the tube, I tossed it between us leaving the drawer hanging open without a care as you spared not a moment, slicking up your fingers and smoothly, deftly manipulating. I lost the power to do anything as your fingers worked magical things from me, I grasped for the bedsheets, failing to get a grip, I tried to reach for you to pull you near, I settled for thrusting my hips to demand more since words and grace escaped me.

My vision faded then returned to catch your eyes on me, to meet your gaze and you pulled away. I shot you a glare I was sure would melt the sun, instead you smirked, took my ankles both in hand. Licking your lips you lifted each leg over your shoulders. I was enraptured by the way you inched closer, hiking my legs higher, making me writhe from the distance. I reached out for you to urge you to move quicker, and you simply said “touch yourself Stevie” in such a way that I wanted nothing more and complied instantly, gasping at the almost casual touch of your cock to my body as I grasped my own.

Our locked gazes as you entered me drove me to lose all my cares, knowing I was finally within reach of what I wanted. I ground my hips to yours instantly and took and took from you as hard and rapidly as I could; simultaneously gripping and massaging my own cock greedily seeking release as you watched equally greedy. You let me take and met my fervor. There was a feeling not unlike a fever in watching you as I came, watching you watch me as you came, the urgency preceding and the fury in the midst of it bringing with it that sleepy feeling I was already fighting before it all. I finally broke eye contact, telling myself I was just closing my eyes for a moment. I felt only half present as you lowered my legs while tenderly kissing me. I could feel as you lowered yourself to lie beside me with more kisses like it was a dream.

Your thumb across my cheek caused me to look into your eyes, “I’ll be right back. Be a good boy and be asleep when I return.”

“Buck –”

“I love you too” you practically sang as you walked away, leaving me in my state of half-sleep. I roused again as you trailed a warm cloth over obvious and less obvious parts of my body, some of the cloths travel seemed without a point until I realized you were worrying over injuries that were probably long gone, or bruises that would fade soon enough.

I stilled your hand taking it into mine, taking the cloth and casting it aside, “you need to stop now. I’m fine. Come to bed.”

I felt the bed give to your weight as you climbed in alongside me huddling close, I pulled the blankets over us and found and kissed your neck and lips reverently.

“It’s my job to worry about you Stevie. Always has been. You can’t fault me for sparing an extra few minutes with your body now that I can look my fill.”

That was a feeling I would never disagree with, “You can’t fault me for wanting to hold you for the same reasons.” I pulled you closer, twining my arms around you almost desperately, “I’m exhausted and just want to be close.” The last thing I remember was you shoving closer, nestling contentedly against my chest.


	20. House Rules

The hard part started the next day when Sam visited.

I woke to the phone ringing; it was Sam, calling to let me know he was stopping by the coffee shop for breakfast and coffee, he asked for our order. I rolled quietly out of the bed to let you continue sleeping as long as possible; and wandered out into the kitchen.

“You could just come by and I could make breakfast.” I replied, poking my head into the refrigerator. There was plenty there to do just that.

“I’m already here, I’ve been looking forward to their pastries.” I could hear the smile behind his tired voice.

“Well then, they do make a pretty good – everything.” I smiled, thinking of the last time we were there. “Hey, Sam? Is there this really exotic looking, gorgeous girl working?”

“Yes, yes she is.” I could visualize the smile he was wearing, and he was probably appreciating her exotic look to its fullest… Ember brooked nothing less. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Could you ask her if my special request ever arrived?” I said around a chuckle.

“Excuse me,” I heard him say to Ember.

“Yes sweetie,” she smiled and flirted. I didn’t have to be there to know, I just did.

“I’m picking up breakfast for a couple of friends, Steve wanted me to know if his special request had arrived?” he sounded curious.

“Oh, you’re friends with Bucky and Steve?” She sounded like she was right next to the phone; I could see her smile in my mind’s eye. Bright and beautiful, “Hi boys.” She said into the speaker. “I’ve got it right back here; I’ll put it in the bag with your order. What can I get for you handsome?”

“Sam, I’ll have whatever it is on today’s special; waffles with extra whipped cream on the side – add eggs and bacon to that one for Bucky. And those preserves… let her know I appreciate it. And I’ll pay you for the preserves when we settle up. I’ll let you go so you can work with Ember…” I chuckled as he sighed and signed off.

I wandered back into the bedroom to find you still sleeping. I pulled on a pair of jeans, brushed the hair out of your face and kissed your sleep-marked cheek before heading out to wait on Sam. I figured I could wake you after he arrived with food.

Breakfast was delicious and the look of pure joy on your face when you tasted the redcurrant preserves on your waffles was enough to sustain me through the rest of the day. Good thing too, because the day got serious once you asked about what had happened on the mission. As we started telling – I could see you getting uncomfortable, I’m proud of you, you held up admirably, even when we stopped talking mission and Sam started looking over my research. I took a bit of an ego blast from you and Sam regarding my aggressive action attitude. I realize I’ve been pushing it and I’m sorry it’s upsetting. I’m also sorry I’m not able to just stop. Which is why I was so relieved when you told me not to stop. I’ve been doing the legwork and you’ve been letting me. I figured it was progress.

Eventually I started to notice and realize just how uncomfortable it’d been for you, since you’d tense up or flinch a little each time you would catch sight of the display depending on what it is you’d see. Honestly, if I had someplace else to do this, I’d have taken it off the kitchen table. As it is, I’d only work on it while you’re in the other room working or when you would opt to go to the gym without me. You never asked about the meetings and I wouldn’t bother you with the info until you choose to ask. I know you trust me

At about 80 times too many for me to take – watching you with this practiced, veiled reaction – I decided that the least I could do is try to block the view to hopefully make things easier for you. I decided that maybe I should start trying my hand at painting something specifically to sell. The easel and supplies did a good job of curtaining the area and the light from the window was perfect for the rough sketch I was putting onto the canvas.

I took inspiration from one of our unplanned dates – the night we wandered and I had the inspired idea to go ice skating – for my first project. It has to be one of my favorite moments with you yet. The inspiration feels right. I still think about the joy we shared skating, racing and just being together – and I want that joy to be ours every day. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything. You wanted romantic language? That’s what I offer in these words. That’s what I’m putting into that piece of art.

I think you recognized what I was doing for what it was, and I think you liked the change. It might have even inspired your house rules. I have to admit, when you first set up rules for the house I was shocked. Once you explained that you wanted specific times cut out for **us** , times where you wouldn’t have to avoid the “project” it made so much sense and I really embraced it.

                – First rule. No working until after breakfast… _“Ok Buck, if that will help.”_

                – Second rule. Quit working in time for dinner… _“Again, Buck – whatever it takes I’ll do it.”_

Since the rules were conceived and implemented I’ve really enjoyed the morning routine we’ve set up since; I’ll draw and paint while you fix either something simple or something elaborate for breakfast, depending on your mood and how early we rise. Since the art set up is in the kitchen, I’m able to help anytime you ask or any time I feel inclined (which is often because I love our synergy in the kitchen. The dinnertime rule is also a gift. I stop working in time to help prepare dinner and don’t go back to it for the night (unless I get awake in the night). Instead, the evenings are ours, I enjoy the times when we both settle on the sofa and read books in a comfortable silence. Sometimes we’ll watch movies and other times we go out. It helps me to quit working at a designated time, a luxury I have recently come to enjoy since putting myself in on call status: “emergency only” with the Avengers. That last “mission” caused me to pull away a little. “World emergencies – call me. Hydra cleanup crew, you guys know the drill”. It wasn’t happily received but it was accepted. I guess being nearly 100 gets me some allowances.

I do get up in the night to work on the project often, when ideas keep crowding my head. My night-owl missions to liberate you are convenient for contacting people I might be able to enlist, communicating with those across the world. Although I’ve had some promising calls, most often what I get is “it would be easier to speculate if we knew what he was doing out there.” It’s so hard not to say, “Oh, he’s currently curled up under a down comforter sleeping a deep and peaceful sleep after having a filling pot roast and wine for dinner. I’m pretty sure he’s not out there causing any mischief.” Instead it’s along the lines of; “Things are quiet from all of my sources.” This isn’t reassuring to them considering how hard I looked for you before and how they know that they were my eyes and ears half the time. I’ve learned to deflect, “let’s operate on the assumption that he’s just trying to stay warm and alive and tell me what we can do for him once he wants to be found.”

Sam’s so much better at smoothly handling them; he knows the right things to say to the types of people we are asking for help from which is why _those_ people are **not** the ones that I call in the dead of night. He happened to do exactly that on one particular night when he was unable to sleep. He called me as soon as he got off the phone. “I hope I didn’t wake anyone.”

“No, Sam. Bucky’s asleep in the other room and I'm just going through the latest notes.”

“You never sleep any more. This is eating you up Steve, worse than when you couldn’t find him.”

“It’s not that bad. I sleep; I just had a nightmare and had to walk it off.” That’s usually the catalyst to get me up in the night. “He deserves to be free, to get the benefits he deserves. He deserves to be able to claim his life.”

“He’s doing ok.”

“He’s flying under the radar, barely. Each time we go out it’s more likely he’ll be recognized. I can’t just say “no, we can’t go out – you’re a prisoner in your own home now” but it scares me more and more.”

“So you obsess over it and give yourself nightmares and then you’re up obsessing about it again. You need to step away for a couple of days.”

“On that note, why are **you** up late and calling me?”

“I got a call on the way home from my date.”

“How’s Ember?”

“In love with you two fools. I don’t even know why I’m bothering trying to take her out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re like her pets.”

He laughed so hard, I thought he’d hyperventilate. “You know? You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” I laughed along, “So Ember’s good, you called for me to torment you about her? Or to torment me because I saw her first?”

“Hold on, how many people are you planning on shacking up with?”

“I’ve still got another bedroom Sam.” I teased.

“Great. I don’t even want to know. I just got a return call from a lawyer friend who owes me a favor. She’s very interested in representing Bucky. She’s certain she can get his case in front of the right sympathetic parties. She’s convinced that once she’s got the right audience, with the appropriate show of remorse from Bucky, she could lobby them to expunge his record. If not and they’re hell bent on “justice”, she will settle for no less than zero incarceration and will argue strongly that the sentence be considered “time served” bearing in mind how long he was held by factions masquerading as **our government** ”

“What does she offer if any of these things fail? Say she doesn’t get the right sympathetic parties? Or they won’t consider time served appropriate sentencing? What about his army record? His discharge? Pension?”

“She wants to discuss everything as a team.” His sentence trailed off suspiciously.

“Including Bucky.” My heart dropped. “You told her?”

“Including Bucky. Of course I didn’t tell her. She wants us to find his ass and drag him to her office or drag her where he is.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. “How soon?”

“How’s your file looking? Is it clean and organized? If you have everything ready to present we could possibly buy time meeting with her to give her the file. Convince her we are still looking for him first. That would give her time to look it over while we try to ease him into the idea.”

“Did she make that offer?”

“No. I told her I would get back to her with our terms. We just won’t have answers to all of those questions you just asked me until she can meet with all of us together.”

“So,” I sighed, “Let me get this straight. The very questions he’s most concerned about (aside from the ones she’s offered possible answers to), the questions whose answers would typically sway him to agree to a meeting like this, are the ones that we don’t get answers for without railroading him into being there.”

“It sounds so unattractive when you put it that way.”

“It sounds like the truth when I put it that way Sam. I’m grateful and it’s the most promising of anything we’ve gotten, but I have been living with him, he’s still avoiding the table. He’s still frightened.”

“Don’t pressure him into anything still. Tell him soon that we talked and tell him what I told you. Do it conversation style, ease into it – none of that “we need to talk” nonsense, that’s just an anxiety builder. Make sure you’re in a place he feels most comfortable, nowhere near the table. Just tell him the facts and tell him we will stall as long as he needs.”

“Within reason, I’m sure there’s an expiration date on this offer.”

“I wasn’t given one. Do NOT say “within reason” when you’re offering this information to Bucky. Just tell him we will stall as long as he needs.”

“I love how he’s been my friend for my entire life but I need you to tell me how to deal with things regarding him. Am I that abrasive?”

“You can be pretty _aggressive_ when you’re passionate about something. He doesn’t need aggressive but don’t be too soft either. You’ve read the files; you know the tactics they used even to talk to him. Just do it in the course of normal conversation, talk to him like you ordinarily would.”

I didn’t even have time to formulate a plan, you came out of the bedroom as I was finishing with Sam, “What the fuck?” you growled, I guessed from the scowl on your face and the rumpled look of your pajama pants, one leg was hiked up to the knee, and your hair was wildly sticking every which way that a nightmare had dragged _your_ ass out of bed too.

“Sam.” I figured that would be enough to deter you. Then you walked determinedly toward me and wrapped your arms around me – nightmare theory confirmed.

“Yeah? Telling stories about his date? Didn’t peg him as the ‘kiss-n-tell’ sort.” You muttered into my shirt. I closed my arms around you, smoothing your hair with one hand.

“He was telling me about a lawyer friend who wants to take your case and thinks she can get a particular group of officials to hear your testimony. She’s confident, Buck.”

When you only tensed slightly I took it as a good sign.

“She wants to meet me.” You groaned, tensing more.

“All three of us.” I agreed, “Sam says she is certain she can get your record expunged. He pressed her and she added that _if_ somehow they demand a conviction she’s not willing to settle for anything less than “time served” considering your captivity was at the hands of the government.”

“He’s sure of this lawyer?” you pulled away just enough to look at me, I saw hope winning out over the typical dread.

“Are you willing to talk to Sam and me – ask questions and get answers – about this? You could ask him anything you need to know, things I didn’t think to ask.”

“Willing? Yes. Able? Well, that remains to be seen.”

“You won’t be alone.” It felt like such a stupid thing to say, so ineffective and trite, but when you gripped me closer and thanked me, I wondered at the power of the words. You’d been alone for so long, maybe there was something to my weak sounding offer after all.

“Promise me. I won’t be alone no matter what; I won’t have to be alone.”

“Never.”

“So. Say this thing goes sour. Say I have a way out.” You paused, “I’m talkin’ going on the run again.”

“No.” -  ‘just no, I can’t lose you again’ was all that swirled through my head.

“Hear me out. I **won’t** go to prison and I **won’t** sit there and _let_ them kill me. Would you run with me?”

I wouldn’t have expected what came out of my mouth, but without thinking, “Yes. I’d run with you. I’d have to, wouldn’t I? I couldn’t lose you again. But that’s not even going to become an option.”

“I’ve been figuring out how to manage it.” You continued. “For just myself and for both of us in case you agreed.”

“I agree, Buck, as long as you agree it is the very final straw.”

“But I get to make that call. If things go sour, I’m making the determination. I’m going – whether you come or not.”

“Ok. I’ll follow. AND when this conversation is proven to be completely hypothetical and we’re sitting here one night in the near future, while you study because you’re in college working to become a teacher (or professor even), you’ll tell me I was right and you were just playing the opposite side of the coin.”

“You’ve got a deal. Mostly because I like the picture you just created. Paint it for me when you’re done with the ice rink piece.”

“I’ll paint it for you when you’re sitting on the floor surrounded by textbooks and not before.”


	21. Painted Paper Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky surprises Steve with a Christmas tree.  
> There's kissing and fluff

It was perfect that we were able to push back any meetings until after the holidays, working in our favor so that we could have a real Christmas for the first time. I hadn’t been thinking about Christmas, haven’t for years now, after all, the last time Christmas meant something to me was before your fall from the train. Since then I’ve put myself into my work.

I came home from meeting with Nat and Sam about the information that we’d obtained on the last mission and on a couple of small raids they’ve been managing since. There in the middle of the apartment was a tree that nearly grazed the ceiling and filled the expanse of the living room, where the coffee table had gone, I had no clue. In front of the plush, festively lit tree sat one very engrossed boyfriend, you were draped in red and green garland, as you sat patiently undoing knots.

I wasn’t sure I knew what to say or do, or if I should even come in and break your concentration and peace, Christmas music was serenading you as you continued your task. “Buck?” I tested the waters.

“Hmm?” was all I got, at least you looked up.

“What’s all this?” I was still cautious, but curious.

I was so caught up in my shock at the sight that I didn’t know how to proceed but the smile you gave me when you answered, “Best damned tree I could find! Christmas, Stevie. It’s a Christmas. Tree.” was so pure and joyful my heart melted.

“I can see that, I didn’t know we were getting a tree.”

“We didn’t talk about it but I remembered the newspaper tree and I didn’t want another sad or forgotten Christmas between us.”

“Newspaper tree?” I wasn’t sure where this memory came from or where it was taking you.

“Yeah surely I didn’t make it up – a scrawny muddy tree that I dragged home one year when you were sick, when weren’t you sick at Christmas really, Steve? But we made newspaper garland and”

Suddenly I remembered that meager Christmas picked out of all of the attempts you’d ever made to brighten my sick days of winter. “And I cut out snowflakes from more newspaper. You remembered. So you did all this?”

“Well, we have been out, haven’t you noticed that it’s Christmas?” your smile was faltering, and I didn’t like that I was the reason.

“I guess I am aware of it, but it was always so hard, I just stopped paying attention.”

“Hey, not any more you won’t. We’re together, we got each other, we don’t have anything pressing and I bought this plump tree. I hope that’s not a problem?” your voice cracked a little and I had to do something, even in my shock and initial discomfort at the whole idea of Christmas.

“Oh – no, Bucky no, it’s not a problem. Just the biggest goddamned surprise I can’t even wrap my head around it.”

“I thought we could decorate it together, like we always tried to do, always talked about doing. I got some pretty great decorations, as you can tell.” When you held the knotted garland up as an offering, your face had pretty much fallen into despair. I was spoiling your beautiful surprise with my lead feet and uncertainty over a holiday you were clearly embracing with such fervor, one I hadn’t even allowed myself to recognize was going on around us. That offering broke through all of my own issues and brought me to my knees in front of you. Desperate to fix the mess I was making.

 “Bucky, you are the greatest. This tree, it’s fucking huge.” With all my heart I took your face into my hands, kissing you softly, “it’s beautiful and this is the best gift ever.” I grinned, “You look so festive, with your plush garland and all these little shiny slivers all in your hair.”

I brushed my hands over your tinsel-wrapped shoulders with a gentle squeeze before ruffling the shards from your hair, sending them flying all over the two of us. You relaxed and the joy returned as you pulled me to you in a deeper kiss, nearly crushing the tangle of tinsel you’d been so painstakingly unraveling. “Now, as long as you’re ok with the tree?” you hesitated, the after-effects of the kiss still fogging my head I wondered why we’d stopped but remembering this seemed so important to you, I just nodded with a smile, “help me put it together right.”

We spent the evening decorating the tree which actually consisted of ruthlessly teasing one another about ornaments, two reds or two greens being too close together; a lot of me critiquing your placement of ornaments; you challenging my opinion and intentionally messing things up, followed by me telling you to “fuck off, I’m the artist”. It was all good natured, of course. We had wine and listened to Christmas music; we ate cheese and fruit instead of an actual meal and we kissed so many times I lost count.

Once the good-natured bickering was done and the tree decorated, including the garland, I positioned myself under the tree to tuck the tail of the garland up under a bottom bough. The lighted tree from the underside was a pretty sight.

“What are you doing down there Sunshine?” you asked, I smiled at the nickname.

“Tucking the end so it doesn’t hang out. Come down here.” When you just stood there gaping at me hands on your hips, I tried to convince you. “Really, Buck, come lie down here for just a minute, take a look.

“You didn’t spike your wine with that shit of Thor’s and not give me any did you? You buzzed?”

“Lie down on the floor by me for just a goddamned minute you ass.” You do have an exasperating quality.

When you finally joined me you looked at me like I was the village idiot – and I smiled at you like you hung the moon, and I kissed you then whispered, “look up.”

We were lying on the floor, essentially underneath the tree holding hands, looking up at the lights and eventually even started singing along with the Christmas music. All of a sudden, in the middle of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ you remembered something, swore and scrambled up to go over to the shelves, picking up a box that I hadn’t seen before. The look on your face was a swirl of mystery and hope and excitement.

“What have you done?” I asked cautiously.

“I didn’t _do_ anything. I did _find_ something wonderful. What’s the tree missing, Steve?” reluctantly I looked away from your delighted face to survey the tree, it looked pretty amazing to me, of course it had also looked amazing with just the lights so I just shrugged. “Steve, it’s missing the crowning glory!”

“Oh, yeah. Ok, like a star or angel right?” I hadn’t thought it was missing anything but since you’d brought it up, I couldn’t deny it might be lacking _something_. This didn’t stop me from playing dumb for the moment, in spite of my eagerness to see into the yellowed paperboard box that had seen better days, the corners of the lid taped with amber, aged cellophane tape. I was equally eager to see what was causing you such obvious excitement.

After a rude and derogatory comment that couldn’t be more ridiculous; “listen, I’m the Dory in this relationship. Wise up asshole.” I frowned at your choice of joke and you beamed, “Like a star!” pulling the lid up and tucking it under the box to reveal a red and gold glass star topper. It gleamed in the light, reflecting the colored lights. “It’s old. Like us. It’s broken, like us.”

“It’s perfect.”

“Maybe not perfect. But for us maybe perfect enough?”

“Bucky, look at it, it’s perfect. We could never have dreamed of having something so fine.”

“If we use it, it might shatter but if we don’t it’ll just remain hidden away forever and that would be a shame.”

“Yeah, it would be a shame not to take the chance. We’ll just be careful and everything will be perfect.”

“Damn star is becoming a metaphor – great.” You huffed, only half serious. “Who am I kidding? It was a metaphor when I bought it. It’s kind of what made me want it.”

“Do you want the honor? It’s because of you we have this.”

“No. I’ve been thinking about you putting a proper star on a proper tree since you first pinned a painted paper star on the wall when a tree was the least likely thing to come into our celebrations. You should do it.”

> I remembered that star. We’d been listening to Christmas programs on the radio, and were talking about a tree. I had the remnants of some oil paints handy and started painting as we talked. “I could see if I could scrounge one up. I know a few folks I could try to make a deal.” You’d offered.
> 
> “We don’t need a tree for it to be Christmas, Buck.”
> 
> “Maybe not, but it would look more cheery.”
> 
> “How’s a dead tree with _nothing_ on it gonna look cheery?” I coughed.
> 
> “What about strings of popcorn or something? That would work right?” You were trying desperately to find something to distract me from yet another year in spent more often than not in bed sick.
> 
> “No. then it’s just a dead tree with an open invitation to rodents.”
> 
> “You’re sure a sad sack. Don’t like Christmas anymore?”
> 
> “Naw, I like it fine. I just don’t see the point in something wasteful.” Truth to tell, I really wanted a tree – and everything that would go on it. I just didn’t want you to stress about it. I didn’t want you brawling for wagers or any of the other things a man might find to do to make a buck. “Besides, if ya want festive how ’bout this right here?” I produced the wet-paint star.
> 
> You whistled “that’s real pretty, almost looks like one of those stained glass windows down at the cathedral or somethin’”
> 
> “You’re just bein’ a jerk. It’s a bunch of paint I can’t even make heads or tails out of the colors of, I don’t even know if it clashes or what.”
> 
> “I’d tell you if it was godawful. Honestly. It’s really nice. You should hang it up – that way it’s decoratin’ the place and it’ll be able to dry without getting’ messed up.”
> 
> “You should hang it – it’ll be a falling star if I do it.”
> 
> “Ha! That’s rich. Hang the star Steve.” You laughed and I crawled out of the easy chair I’d been folded up into and found the bare nail that was in the wall by the door and poked the nail head through the center top of the paper. Well, almost center – the star was now hanging askew.
> 
> “Told ya you should hang it, now it’s crooked and don’t gripe about it.”
> 
> “Stars hang at all angles in the sky Steve, only an artist would worry about which angle is ‘correct’.”

I smiled at both the memory and that it was another one that we shared. Every time you remember something and it doesn’t hurt you is a moment for celebration, whether silent or aloud. I took the star, so delicate and beautiful, into my hands, turning it over in the light and seeing the broken parts in the center, almost making a lace pattern – yeah, this was fragile, it was perfectly imperfect and if we played our cards right we could keep it in one piece for some time to come.

You were a silly, sweet and protective throwback from another era when you warned me about the sharp glass and showed me your nonexistent wound. I kissed it anyway, because you deserve to be coddled and kissed and because I couldn’t resist.

I took extra care stretching to reach the tree top, much like the stretch to reach the nail so long ago. I knew if the star was crooked it would be because of the tree and not because of a miscalculation. I also knew that stars “hang at all angles in the sky” and that it would be perfect. My caution was to prevent dropping the priceless heirloom and to keep from toppling the tree or upsetting any of the perfectly imperfectly placed ornaments and garland.

As I stepped back to survey our masterpiece you stepped forward, right into my back, sliding your arms around me. I shrank into your embrace, wanting it more than my next breath. I hugged your arms at my waist, “It’s perfect now, right?”

“You’re the artist” I felt as well as heard your words tickling my shoulder as you lazily replied mid embrace.

I turned to hold you properly, “you really brought Christmas home this time Buck.”

“It is picture-perfect isn’t it? Just the right amount of everything and perfectly positioned color arrangement.” you joked at my expense.

“The star is the best part.” “We could have been done hours ago” I teased back, “and just put that on the lighted tree. It’s perfect, where did you find it?”

“Some hipster vintage shop.” You shrugged, a half-grin on your face, “I got the ‘my boyfriend’s cheating on me’ special. Don’t discount all of my other decorative finds though, those red and several shades of green balls make the tree extra glitzy.”

“You’ve got me there. They _are_ part of the excellence.” I couldn’t resist touching your face, stroking your jaw and kissing you with the tenderness I felt in the moment and had felt through half the night. “Thank you Bucky – this is beautiful.”

“It was important to me to do this. I wish I could explain why.” I moved into your caress, your fingers in my hair.

“It’s Christmas.” I replied, sliding my fingers up under the hem of your shirt, tickling and touching the skin just above your waistband. “I’m unwrapping the best gift early.” I kissed you again, deeper and more urgently.

“Only by one day, I’ll be your Christmas Eve gift.”


	22. Christmas Carols

Christmas day was great Buck, you were up with the sun, and I heard singing in the kitchen. I followed the joyful sound. There was no music accompanying your crooning carol, just the kitchen noises of food prep. I stood in the shadow of the tree listening and watching you preparing meals, plural. You were fixing both breakfast and the starting preparations of Christmas dinner. I waited through several songs, smiling at the peace on your face and your relaxed body language, before you called me out.

“I know you’re there Steve.”

“Didn’t want to disturb your peace, didn’t want you to stop singing.” I wandered into your haven and kissed you good morning. I live for kissing you good morning and good night. “You think you have enough food here Buck?”

“I figured you’d be ok with it, but I invited Sam and Ember for dinner – they’re both on their own too.”

“Yeah, of course I’m ok with that.” I swiped a slice of bacon from the paper towel it was resting on, “I think I suggested he come by today too.”

“ **I** got a firm yes. _You_ can wait for breakfast.” You tried and failed to recover the bacon before I shoved it in my mouth, “And they’ll be here around five.”

“Sing.” I commanded, leaning back against the counter out of the way.

Your smile, before settling into ‘I’ll be Home for Christmas’, was radiant. I closed my eyes while I listened to your voice, transported.

> “I mean it Sergeant. Cease and desist.” I growled in a low whisper, “We’re on watch, silence. That’s an order.”
> 
> “It’s Christmas, Captain.” You smirked at me, continuing your soft song, “Christmas Eve will find me; where the love light gleams; I'll be home for Christmas; If only in my dreams; If only in my dreams”
> 
> “You’ve been relieved Sergeant.” I shoved at your shoulder. “Hit the sack.”
> 
> “You smiled Captain.” You quirked a brow; “Merry Christmas punk.”
> 
> “Merry Christmas – your gift is not being put on report for insubordination.” I smiled as you sauntered away with a sarcastic, insubordinate salute.

“Penny for your thoughts.” you leaned your chin on my shoulder.

“Thinking of Europe, night watch, Christmas Eve/Christmas day. You were insubordinate, you insisted on singing that song.”

“You had your commission shoved too high up your ass. You were scared and tried pulling rank to make me stop singing and worrying you. Thought I’d give away our position with a soft song in the dead of night. You were probably right to be diligent but I’d been warmed by too much whiskey and I didn’t really care.”

“ _And_ the truth is out.” We both laughed. You laugh more these days and it makes me so happy.

“Another point for me! I remembered something else – you must be so proud.”

“Yes. I’m proud. Proud of you, memories or not, you’ve pulled yourself out of hell and look at you.” I hope you get that someday, that the memories you’ve recovered are not a requirement for me to love you. I love who you’re becoming as much as I ever loved who you were.

“Look at the _two of us_ , Sunshine.” You kissed me playfully, “Merry Christmas punk.”

=====

The day turned out to be a perfect Christmas vignette; the place smelled appropriately like Christmas from the tree and the food you worked to prepare, you’d finally given in to turning the radio on instead of serenading me, which could have stayed as it was but it allowed for playful banter which you’ve _also_ always been very good at. When Ember and Sam arrived they immediately commented on the sounds and the aroma, “He’s been in the kitchen _all day_ just fixing more and more things – I can’t drag him away.”

“Well, it smells like it’s going to be worth it!” Ember cheered, kissing me fully on the lips before finding you in the kitchen. Sam gave me a look – it’s hilarious how he tries to be offended but just can’t seem to get there. I shrugged.

“She kissed _me_ Sam. You saw it.” We looked into the kitchen to see you deepening the kiss she instigated, and to see you peer over her with a vindictive raise of your eyebrows.

“Yeah? What do you call that?”

“Good clean fun, Sammy.” You called from the kitchen. “You must be holding back to send your best girl kissing all the boys.”

“Bullshit.” He claimed, “By that theory you two should not have any need to kiss anyone else, ever. You kiss each other enough to be completely sated, yet here you are making out with my girl.”

“I beg to differ, boys.” Ember grabbed Sam firmly by the arm and kissed him “I like kissing. I’ll kiss whomever I want, whenever, wherever. SO! Bucky – do you need help? I should say do you _want_ help? From the looks and – mmmm – smell of things you don’t need anything!”

“Just hang out with me, everyone, close ranks. The table’s miraculously cleared and there’s plenty of room if you don’t mind being cozy.” You grinned.

“Mind? Bucky, Christmas is _supposed to be cozy_.” Ember cooed, back in your arms again as quick as you please.

I was starting to think I could understand how Sam might feel which is why I crowded in behind you both, grabbing you both in a crushing hug, kissing you then her then you again. “Mmm. I like cozy.” I said, winking at Sam who rolled his eyes in defeat. Ember moved back to him as he sat at the table. She moved her chair so she could sit close to him with her arm over his shoulders, leaning her chin on his arm while watching us.

“See what I mean?” Sam asked her. “Do you _see_ what it’s like coming over here?”

“Shh.” She said squeezing his arm. “You just _Shh_. I’m watching them. I _see_ them.”

“We’re no spectacle for you to ogle.” You admonished her. I brushed a stray bit of hair from your face as you spoke, “You. You need to keep your hands to yourself so I can finish this. There’s a chair, park it. I made the mistake of singing to him today, I think he’s never going to be the same.” You told them.

“That’s something I think we should all be privy to.” Ember decided, to my delight.

“Only if you crazy people sing along, there’s no way I’m going to do that all by myself.” This is how we ended up singing carols before dinner.

After dinner we were told in no uncertain terms we were _going_ to watch _A Christmas Story_ , after traumatizing them both with the admission that neither of us had seen it. Ember imposed intermission when she got too excited about opening gifts and when we looked at the tree it was littered with brightly wrapped packages underneath, which it hadn’t had earlier in the day. Somehow, at some point either she or Sam had slipped from notice and placed presents among the few that had been put there early in the morning before you’d gotten started in the kitchen. I had a couple of things – as much as I had no solid plans for Christmas before you brought in the tree, I did have gifts for my favorite people – I hurried to get them before everyone started opening packages.

There were funny gifts, practical gifts, soft and warm sweaters from Ember, until there were two gifts left under the tree. “Uh, no – guys that one, that’s for later.” You said with a blush when Ember pulled a small box out from the branches of the tree. She reached for another small box and I stopped her, “Sentimental, let’s get back to the movie!” I joined your protest.

“Aw boys? Really – we need to see all your lovely gifts.” Ember teased.

You reached for her elbow, “Please sweetheart? I want to wait.”

“Oh Bucky, I can’t resist your puppy dog eyes… Sam, resume the movie.”

“Wow! Whatever it is you do – I need to know the secret. I would never be able to get away with so much with her.”

“I’m her favorite Sam.” you grinned.

“That makes absolutely no sense – she’s dating _me_.” Sam practically pouted as he started the movie. Ember snuggled in with Sam and I plopped down beside you to finish the movie.

After the movie, and after Sam and Ember left, we were both as curious as the other about the small boxes on the tree.

“Do we open them together at the same time?” I asked, handing you my gift.

“Sure. Steve, it – it’s, well, just open it.” I was that much more curious if it had you so dismissive and eager at the same time.

I pulled out something I’d assumed had been lost over seventy years ago, and turned them over in my hands several times, pressing the raised lettering of your dog tags into the skin of my palm. “You should keep these Buck.” I said softly as you opened my box and pulled out the trench art shell casing.

You cradled it in your hand and looked up at me with tears. “I want you to keep them; I know you’ll keep them safe. Just like the way you kept this safe.”

“I can’t take the credit – it was in my belongings and had been boxed up when I ‘died’. You remember that piece, don’t you?” it was really more a statement than a question.

“Yes, I seem to remember you swiped it from me. That was probably for the best since it came into your possession, and you have too kept it safe.” My own eyes teared up when you closed your hands around mine, “I found those when I tore up one of the hydra facilities. I’ve been meaning to give them to you – it’s silly, I know.”

“I swiped it from you, but not before you swiped it from Fallsworth. No, it’s not silly. It’s not at all silly, Buck. I need these if you’re sure you don’t want to hold onto them.”

“Nonsense, I salvaged that from being thrown into the fire. As for the tags; I’m certain, they couldn’t be in better hands. Nor could I.” your eyes glistened with tears all over again and I pulled you close and kissed you, wanting to reject the tears and give back the happiness from earlier.

“I love you Buck. Merry Christmas…” I took your face tenderly in my hands and looked into your eyes, “seriously, no more tears from you, you hear me?”

“I can’t help it. I’m so… I’m just overwhelmed.” You breathed deeply, “Happy, Steve. I’m happy. Merry Christmas, Love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trench art referenced was revealed in chapter [2\. Out of the Box](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4982776/chapters/11493994) (2015-10-15) of Sam's POV


	23. You Can't Run Away This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They know where I am.” The words, as they tumbled from your mouth, tore at me.
> 
> “They’ll know you’re not going without a fight. You’re not going anywhere.” Not on my watch, not this time.
> 
> There is no way I’m losing you again. We’ve already talked about this Buck – you do not have my blessing or permission to leave me.

The gunshot woke me and I somersaulted out of bed to grab my shield, I had no idea what I was going to find on the other side of the door but I knew if you had fallen there would be hell to pay. As I neared the doorway, I was able to see a body across the threshold. I dove over, ducking my head to miss the door jamb. My heart was still racing; there was no blood, who’d been shot? Would I find you in the same condition? Had they stolen you away, just as you’d feared?

What I saw was you careening across the room, taking one man out at the knees, bashing him into your bedroom door which detached from the hinges and its trajectory was to collapse on top of you, I grabbed it as it landed and tossed it to the floor beside you, as I engaged one of the remaining men. He’d been the one that was shot, but had enough fight left in him to pose a threat; I kept him from coming at you, letting him fight me – which he did to his end. The next things I heard were practically on top of each other, the man fighting me fell, gurgling “hail Hydra” as you demanded from your opponent “What are you doing here? What do you want?” I turned, flung the shield across the room when I saw you both locked in each other’s sites.

My goal was to get it between you so I could aid you in your fight, what actually happened is you two trigger happy assholes fired as the shield sliced between you, but I couldn’t gauge whether or not it had succeeded in sparing you, I tackled you to the ground to protect you from the gunfire. Uncertain of the outcome I may or may not have cried out. As terrified as I was of losing you. Again.

I fell apart is what I did. Hell, I admit it. I wept over you as you held me and reassured me. I was convinced I’d failed “I’m ok Steve, I’m ok.” I wept, deaf to your voice in my grief, as you continued crooning I heard your voice and held on to the sound until the words started making sense while you drilled it info my head. “I’m ok, you got that?” Your reassurance was the only thing that kept me grounded.

As it finally sunk in I sat back, my hands on your cheeks, holding onto the vision of you. “What the hell just happened?” It came out in a whisper.

“Nightmare” you laughed harshly, your forehead touching mine, further grounding me.

“I don’t think I like the idea that ‘dreams come true’ anymore.” I smiled ruefully, as the thought of reinforcements surfaced and I rushed out of the apartment and down the hall, shield in hand, barefoot and in my pajama pants, to ensure we were alone. Thoughts of what may be coming next swirled with thoughts of what’d just transpired. I leapt over the railing in the stairwell, landing on the bottom level with a jolt. I looked around before checking outside. My heart was hammering in my chest, as I contemplated the situation. As I reached the door I took a deep breath, looked up the stairwell once more, hearing nothing, I stepped outside.

I looked out into the pre-dawn, the streetlight glowed yellow down the walkway in both directions, I saw no shadowy figures, the street appeared clear both ways. I looked up and saw you on the roof, peering over the edge, when you gave the signal for all clear, I sent up a salute and proceeded to check the perimeter of the building, coming up empty before returning to the apartment.

Your face when I saw you, the fear, resignation, and something else – something I still don’t like thinking about – a look that said you were going away, threatened a bubbling panic in my chest. “They know where I am.” The words, as they tumbled from your mouth, tore at me.

“They’ll know you’re not going without a fight. You’re not going anywhere.” Not on my watch, not this time.

               There is no way I’m losing you again. We’ve already talked about this Buck – you do **not** have my blessing or permission to leave me.

“You need to tell your team.” you groaned and I knew how much that cost you, it did bring me a small measure of hope that you were listening and would stay.

“Are you ok with that?” it wasn’t just a canned question; I know how much you’ve been struggling with everything since we set the date to meet with Sam’s attorney friend. I know how much that cost you too.

“Not remotely. But I’m less ok with this.” You turned the overhead light on and the events which had been almost surreal were clear, three bodies, two on one side of the room and one on the other, two pools of blood on the hardwood.

“What really happened?” I asked as I tried to piece together the events as I remembered them and figure out what came before I’d gotten involved.

“I thought I’d heard something that startled me awake” you scratched your neck recalling the details “– the door opening maybe. I never identified it just went with my gut feeling.”

“Now you know why I don’t care about the swollen door jambs and the squeaky hinges.”

“Well if this one had been less squeaky we’d have less noise to worry about covering up in the form of gunfire.” You sounded both exasperated and still terrified.

I’d considered that though as well, a little surprised we hadn’t been checked up on already, and queued up an action movie and turned the volume loud. “Just in case anyone comes to the door.”

“Yeah? You gonna tell them this is roleplay?” you indicated the shambles that was half of our living room.

“I wouldn’t swing the front door wide open you jackass.” I stepped closer, kissing you on your forehead and cheek, reveling in my relief, “god I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

“I can still hold my own. I might have had an extra hole in my body but I did actually take them all out. You just used one as a punching bag.”

“I don’t ever doubt you can hold your own,” I wasn’t sure if I should laugh at your bravado or groan at your stubbornness, “I know you can. You don’t have to want to.”

“Oh I **don’t** want to. Believe me peace was looking pretty nice there, but maybe I’ve been getting too complacent.”

“That shouldn’t even be a thing. You should be able to settle in to a peaceful life. Christ Buck, after all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

“Yeah," you huffed, frustration and resignation in your eyes, "what about you? Did you really sign on to a lifetime of being a soldier?”

I’ll never not cringe at that question, especially coming from you. I know what I did was not what you’d have wanted. I also know you’ll never quite understand why I had to do it.

“I guess," I shrugged, "new body, I kinda did.”

“Well – then.” When you looked into my eyes, your love shimmered in the moisture there. Your hand on my chest was reassuring. “I guess I’m sharing you and your body with the world.”

“I guess I need to make a call.” I pulled away, resigned and reluctant.

“I’m calling Sam.” You replied, moving toward the bedroom.

“Ok. Bucky? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be – we didn’t expect company to put a rush on our plans.”

I took my time in the kitchen, flipping through my phone for just the right number, Natasha clear across the world couldn’t help, she was with Fury so he’d be less so. I didn’t want to get into things with Tony yet, that would take too long so I called Clint. He picked up immediately.

“Hey Cap, how was your holiday?”

I chuckled, dry and sardonic, “It was beautiful – until this morning. I need your help.”

“Anything," his tone changed abruptly "what can I do?”

“Help me hide a body? Or three.”

He chuckled heartily before he stopped “You’re not serious?”

“Oh, not entirely. I mean yes I am serious. Hydra attacked in my apartment. Didn’t end well for the guys they sent in.”

“You’re ok? Any other casualties?” the concern on the other end was enough to make me pause, he needed to know to expect something.

“No, I have... I have company but we’re all ok.” Was all I could bring myself to say over the phone, an in person explanation would have to do.

“Ok, that’s the best news. I’ve got just the vehicle – I won’t be long.”

“Thank you.” Was all I could muster.

“Any time. See you in a few.” He said before hanging up.

That done, I had to find you. The urgency I’d felt when I thought you would run hadn’t left me and I needed to see how you were holding up. You were perched on the edge of the bed, a harsh ragged breath tore from you and I was drawn toward you. I crawled onto the bed and settled behind you, wrapping you up in my arms and settling my chin on your shoulder, feeling the stubble on your cheek brush my temple. “Barton’s on his way.”

“Sam is too.” Your cheek touched mine, making me shiver with the abrasion of your two-day growth. “Barton huh?”

“Yeah – long story short, he’s available. Natasha is across the globe and she’s not able to get away. He knows a lot about the situation and he knows about discretion.”

You turned to look at me, pulling away to get a good look. The sudden distance felt too much. “Does he know about me – being here?”

“No. He will. I wasn’t exactly sure how to get everything including the events of the night into a cohesive story over the phone. I’ll have backup explaining everything with you and Sam there.”

“Do you trust him?” your eyes bored into mine, probably to judge the honesty of my coming response.

“I do.” I tugged you back and grasped your hands, laying kisses on your neck before reclaiming my chin rest on your shoulder. “We should get dressed.”

“Yeah.” You sucked in a breath and I could feel your stress and tightened my embrace, not releasing your hands. You squeezed my fingers, a tiny, gentle embrace, a giant reassurance before pulling away.

You crossed the room to the closet and I barely heard “Three more.”

“Three more? Oh.” I was across the room instantly, knowing. “Oh… Bucky, it was necessary.” I put my hand on your shoulder in support, wanting to pull you to me.

“Yeah. Always necessary.” You shrugged away from my hand and hurriedly dressed in your softest sweater, a gift from Ember, and jeans.

“Buck,” I waited until you’d zipped the zipper before putting my hand back on your shoulder. I tugged to try to turn you to face me, all you did was dip your shoulder and give me a look, not turning as you ordinarily would, tugging at my heart.

“Yeah?”

I moved closer and wrapped my arms around your shoulders, tipping my head to your neck, “you did what you had to do to save us. They’d have tried to take you and if I failed to stop them they may have killed me to get you.” I felt a sting of rejection when you pulled my arms away and walked across the room. In a frenzy I yanked on some jeans and a shirt.

I watched as you stood facing the bed, your shoulders dipped, your hair hiding your face as you looked down on at the mattress – or at nothing – I didn’t know for sure.

“I know.” Was all you said, and I had to strain to even hear it.

“Bucky, you can’t do this. Don’t withdraw from me, please. There’s only darkness down that road.” I wanted to knock some sense in you, but that’s not the right road. I wanted to love you, but had to settle for doing that at the distance you were setting for me.

“I don’t know what you want from me Steve! I can’t embrace it. I’m trying to deal with it but they’re out there, right there.” you pointed at the body in the doorway.

“I don’t want you to embrace this shit!” I seethed, stepping close to you, as close as I could get to your side without touching you. “I want you to accept that it was necessary and not shoulder the blame for it. I’d have done the same! I’d have killed them all to save you because they were going to take you and hurt you again. I’d do it.”

“How am I supposed to _not_ take the blame when even if **you** were the one to take them out – it would be **because** **of** **me?**  Death just follows me. I create it.”

I couldn’t take the tears in your eyes or that you were haunted by such a horrible thought, it was the final straw. I wasn’t gentle as I swung you around to face me. I wasn’t hesitant or accommodating when I crushed you in my arms, “God damn you, you stubborn asshole.” I held on tight, “you don’t get to say that shit. You don’t get to take the blame for this. They are soldiers, they were sent in to our home! Our haven! To remove you – to take you back to their own brand of hell. They deserve to be dead – you took them too quickly god damn it. They should have struggled to find their peace.” I was done fighting you and done fighting the tears.

“Steve, no.” you sobbed, “no. you can’t have those ugly thoughts. You –”

“Fuck that. I’m a grown man, you can’t hide ugly things from me, I’ve **seen** ugly things. You can’t save me from seeing the evil in the world **, I’ve seen it**.” There was a rage in me that I’d never quite experienced then, I had to really rein it in because there was no outlet for it. I fought it and took a deep breath, I rubbed my hand down your back, I exhaled, still calmer. “What gets me through is that I believe in the good, that’s what I need you to see. There is good, you can have it – you deserve it.”

“I –” you stuttered.

The hesitation made me pull away, take you by the shoulders and shake. “Don’t you dare deny –”

“I wasn’t – I want, I need that. I was looking for the right word ‘want’ isn’t sufficient. I _want it_ Steve. Look around.”

I believed you, I understood your frustrated attempt so I walked away, determined. I moved the Hydra men to the wall near the front door, stacking them there. Then I picked up the door to your room and set it up on the long edge shuttering the bodies from view. Next I moved to the tv and turned off the movie. I turned to move back into our room but detoured to light the tree first.

I returned to our room, you were still where I left you, still looking away. I took your hand, encouraging you to follow me. I led you to the living room, past the pools of blood, to the tree, facing away from the things that had happened. “This,” I placed my hand on your back, rubbing circles just above your waistband, before settling it there firmly, “is the good. This, the things you accomplish, the dreams you create. Good memories, fun times – gifts, friends. Don’t underestimate the good in all of these things.”

“He’s right.” Sam said from behind us, he must have let himself in. “We had dinner here, just the other day, the two of you, me, and Ember. We laughed, it was joyful. That’s what we do. Are we having a crisis?”

“We are.” I said as he stood next to me.

“I am.” You said, sounding miserable. “How? How do you pile up enough good to bury the shit? To forgive the killing?”

“You can’t put the two side by side. You are trying to live black and white in a shades-of-gray world. Just recognize that there is good and you’re entitled to it. It’s a start.” Sam answered.

“Nobody told me I was coming to a Christmas party.” We heard behind us.

I recognized Barton’s voice and I felt when you jumped. I moved my hand from where it had been resting on your back, to grab the waistband of your pants to keep you from reacting, hopefully a reassuring signal. “Barton.” I welcomed him.

“Yeah, your gifts are over there.” Sam smirked, indicating the bodies stacked against the wall.

This was it. I hoped you were ok, we had just widened our circle, “So, Clint, this is Bucky. Bucky, Clint.”

Clint’s raised eyebrow and smile settled my nerves slightly, he didn’t flinch as he offered his hand. “I have a feeling there’s more.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” You muttered, shaking the offered hand.

“He’s about to.” Sam interjected.

We started at the beginning, including the events of the helicarrier and beyond, most of that was old news but there were bits we fleshed out for him. You were understandably quiet through the whole thing and it was ok. You could have interjected at any time and I know you trust Sam and me to get it right, so I didn’t worry. We ended the discussion on the note that you and I are living together. There wasn’t one flinch or a blink other than the horror that he barely masked when we spoke of Hydras treatment and use of you for their agenda.

“We’ve got meetings in the next couple of weeks to help Bucky get back into the world.” I explained the need for secrecy.

“Well the timing for this seems just a little too coincidental if that’s the case.” Clint said, causing the rest of us to exchange glances and Sam nearly leapt to his feet and retreated to the Kitchen.

His fingers were flying as he sent text messages, presumably to his lawyer friend, “I trust her, guys. She might be in danger too.” He said in explanation. He called Ember, “hey – yeah, I was just checking in. How’s your day starting out? --- Oh, good! Yeah, things are a little crazy over here but we’re good. --- No, don’t go out of your way, listen, how about I pick it up instead? --- No not at all, I think a break is in order. Can you have enough for four hungry men ready? Thanks sweetheart.”

When he came back in – “My friend’s ok, she’s going to ditch her phone. In other news – barely dodged a bullet, Ember knows something’s not right and wanted to come bring breakfast and to check on everyone. I’ll be back in a few.”

When you called out to Sam to be careful, my pride that you were making friends was unmistakable. I’m so in love with you and I love Sam so it’s nice to have you not hate my friends.

“Well, we should get rid of this.” I spoke up after the door closed behind Sam. “Did you see anything when you came in Clint?”

“Completely quiet – but I don’t expect it to stay that way – if these guys don’t report back” he looked at you for input, “would you guess there’d be reinforcements?”

“Yes.” Your shudder was visible and pained me. You sighed then suddenly “Maybe I can do something to prevent that.” I watched cautiously as you went to the bodies – focused on what appeared to be retrieving one of their phones or com units. You pulled out a phone and thumbed through it quickly doing something, I wasn’t sure what. Part of me sat watching for any signs that they could get to you this way, part of me in awe. I watched as you sent some message and crushed the phone in your left hand – and as you clenched and unclenched both fists, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Buck.” I called, hesitantly.

“It’s done. I think I bought us some time.” you turned away from the bodies, looking at the glow of the tree, “Sent them on a wild goose chase.” your half-assed smirk was like a punch in the gut, but in a good way. Clint and I both laughed.

We worked quickly and quietly to remove the bodies via the alley. One body each lugged down the stairs and loaded up in the pickup with a full shell with tinted windows. “Nice wheels Barton” You and I chimed in together each with a strained grin.

“Nobody’s going to notice this hunk rattling down the roads.” He chuckled. “It’ll get them where they need to go.”

“Yeah, unnoticeable, once it’s no longer jammed into a narrow alley.” You criticized, your tone genial and good-natured.

“I backed it up to the door, what more do you want?” he grinned.

“It’ll do.” you replied

I clapped you the back, smiling tentatively, you looked slightly pale, “I hear breakfast is on its way, we should get back upstairs and see about that.” I announced, guiding you to the door. “You ok Buck?” I asked quietly as we entered the hallway.

“I guess I will be. I’m tired.” You replied.

“Rude awakening.” I agreed.

“One of the worst kinds.” Clint offered as he pulled the outer door closed behind him.

Back inside the apartment, I worked on cleaning up blood, trying to object when you started helping, the reprimand that sat unspoken on your face shut me up. Clint went to work on putting the door back on its hinges, having grabbed some supplies from the truck before coming in. He must have noticed the damage to the door jamb before we ever went down. The interruption of Sam returning bearing the delicious aroma and promise of delightful eats was welcome. He thrust a cold bag at you, “This is yours. Stop making such an impression on my girl.” But there was no malice in the tone or the look on his face.

“I’m really going to have to spend more time at the gym if she keeps this up.” I could only guess the contents until you withdrew a frozen coffee that must have been half whipped cream.

“You don’t have to eat it every time.” I called out from the kitchen counter. “Looks like pancakes for you – someone broke the waffle maker Buck.” I teased as I passed out everyone’s breakfasts.

“Oh yes I do. It’s my one joy.”

“Well I’m offended.” I tried to look the part, you looked around, I guessed you were trying to figure out if the guys were uncomfortable, but they just laughed with us.

I filled Sam in on what he’d missed while he was gone. As we were talking I noticed you stand up with an uncomfortable look on your face, “I’ll be right back”

“Buck?” I called out – wanting to go with you, hoping you’d really be back, that fear that you’d disappear again wasn’t gone after all.

“I’m fine Steve – roof. Air. I’ll be back.”

“Before sunset, please.” I called after you, hoping for humor, recalling your day spent in the cold. Your one finger salute was all the reassurance I needed. Everyone in the room chuckled and over that I heard your footsteps sprinting up the stairs.

A few bites into breakfast and you were already gone; I scooped the whipped cream back into the cup and put it in the fridge, putting your pancakes in the oven to warm. Clint was finished with his breakfast sandwich, “I think he has words for me, maybe he’d rather not speak in public.”

“Clint, he’s fragile.” I offered as a plea.

“Don’t I know it.” He smiled a distant smile, “Remember the trip Loki took me on. I know it’s not the same but it’s not different. You trusted me so far Cap, trust me on this too.”

Sam nodded, it seems your team might be getting bigger Buck and I couldn’t be more proud. Clint left the apartment and Sam echoed my thoughts, “You can’t go wrong getting another Avenger on his side Steve.”

“I hope you’re right Sam. He looked so incredibly broken just short minutes before you got here. Then I thought he was going to jump Clint when he popped in – he was so tense. I have a feeling this next week could get rough.”

“Give him space, don’t crowd him. This is terrible,” he gestured the mess we’d resumed cleaning up, “but it’s less terrible than some of the fears he’s had. He managed better than he was afraid he would.”

“You’re right. He did it all; I was the one that freaked out.”

“Do tell?” he asked, smug and shocked at the same time.

I gifted him with a smirk at his enjoyment before I frowned remembering the gunshots and the hair’s breadth that saved you. “They were holding each other at gunpoint and I could see the Hydra agent preparing to fire, I saw the muscles in his arm, I couldn’t be sure what Bucky’s plan was, his gun was out of my clear line of sight. I threw the shield at them, it did as I’d expected, going in the small space between them – they both fired. Bucky’s shot was true, the other went upward –” I looked at the wall and ceiling, walking toward the area I thought it should be, I found the hole in the ceiling “to end up right here. But I didn’t know it had missed and I fell apart. If there had been any other active threat we both could have been killed.”

“Granted, that’s not a good situation to be in, but it didn’t happen. You learn for next time. You’d just gotten up, awakened in the middle of the night. Don’t let this get to you. And remember, Bucky did a large portion of it but you saved his damned life. None of this “he did it all” crap.”

“I know, I’m working on it. I’ve never been so derailed in the middle of a life or death situation, sure I shut down when he fell from the train. Who wouldn’t. Sure, he resurfaced and I lost my way – but this morning, I was gone, had no idea if we were safe or not.”

“Sounds to me like today was exactly the same. You weren’t worth a damn when you discovered the Winter Soldier was Bucky. Sorry pal, but you weren’t. And did you wait until you were back on solid ground after the fall to shut down? I’d think about it if I were you. Was anyone else counting on you then?” he paused and looked at me, callin' me on my shit and making me realize that he was right. I didn’t wait as long as I’d thought I had either time. He continued, “I’m not saying this to make you feel worse, just to remind you that you are having human reactions to stress. Because you are human Steve. You both survived this. You’re both fine. You’ve got some thinking to do though, bringing Clint in – does that mean Fury too? How deep are you in now? And does Bucky understand the ramifications?”

That was about the time you and Barton came in from the roof. I watched for signs of stress, hell for signs of some kind of fight between the two of you, I didn’t know what I was looking for I was just concerned, but happy you’d come back. You crossed the room and gave me a quick kiss and a tight hug, whispering. “I’m fine Stevie. Really.” This did a lot to soothe me, more than you know Buck.

Sam and Clint checked out then, leaving to deliver and deposit the bodies and the place felt overwhelmingly empty and slightly uncomfortable. “Should we get out of here for awhile?”

When you looked at me you looked relieved, “Yes! I was about to make the same suggestion.” you replied eagerly.

“It’s that or a nap?” I teased, moving around to the kitchen to turn the oven off. “Or you can finish your breakfast first?”

“I’m good, I ate a good portion, wait, you saved my breakfast for me?” You came around the counter and grabbed me in an embrace. “What did I ever do without you Stevie?”

“Aw, Buck, you know the answer to that better than I do.” I kissed you. “Hey, let’s just get out for a few hours. Later we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Since neither of us was looking forward to later, we escaped for a while by getting out and taking in the city. I held onto hope that we would see many more days like that one turned out to be. We fucking deserve it.


	24. You Left Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short angst filled moment in the aftermath of their home invasion

Bucky, I know why you left. I was angry when you did and hurt but I get it. I felt like I wasn’t enough for you, not enough to make you feel safe, not enough to make you stay. It happened so fast, the loss was so immediate, that I didn’t want to give you any options. I would have picked you up and dragged you back home.

When I woke from what I had assumed was a nightmare, unable to breathe, staring at your wild face and unable to articulate the words “it’s a dream” I feared for a moment that I would really die. I was pinned, my arms trapped under your knees, my ribs screaming and bruised by your knees and thighs as you sat atop my chest and squeezed my ribs like they were in a vice. My throat was pretty much in the vice grip of your metal arm, trying to crush my neck. Everything burned and ached and I was starting to see only blackness. I kicked and thrashed to get out from under you, from under the covers that were like tendrils of seaweed dragging me to the depths of the darkness. I felt air on my foot and kicked again and once more, freeing my feet and legs. I kicked up and managed to leverage myself on top of you, to muscle you to the bed and call to you with actual words “BUCKY!” the words finally ground out, “Wake UP Buck!” they were raspy. “Buck. It’s. Me. It’s. Steve! Wake UP.”

I’d had to work extra hard to calm and soothe you, it hurt my heart to watch the aftermath of the terror you’d experienced. The closeness was a balm to both our bruised souls.

Since that night, you haven’t slept. As much as I want you to sleep, I understand why it’s impossible. I have been hoping it would pass. When I woke alone in bed it shouldn’t have set off alarms but since you haven’t left my side choosing to watch over me, I felt the sudden terror and I worried that you’d fled.

I took a tour of the apartment to be certain, when I didn’t find you in your room, and I came back to our bed, I pulled aside your pillow and knew you were really gone. Your knife was gone. One last hope, I went to the roof, but my heart pounding in my chest and head warned me you weren’t there.

I hurried up the street, seeing fresh scuff marks in the frost on the sidewalk right outside our door, I followed until there was nothing. I made my way to the street corner and was faced with 2 new directions you could have gone. I stood in the night, feeling the cold seep up from the sidewalk into my bare feet. I really had rushed to find you. I was about to return home to get geared up for a real search when I spotted your jacket on a figure sleeping against the building – your figure. My breath rushed from me as I hurried to you, angry and hurt I called to you.

“You were really going to fucking leave me without a ‘goodbye’?” I was livid, I was relieved, and I was hurt that you’d really done it after promising you wouldn’t leave.

“I said I love you.” Your voice sounded ravaged, you repeated more clearly, “I said I love you.”

“Do you?” I wasn’t happy hearing those words. I didn’t even know if you knew what they meant any more, I was so hurt by your leaving. “Do you love me?”

When I heard the next thing out of your mouth, I almost wept for the pain that was behind them, “You know that I do.” I almost wept for the pain that I felt because I still didn’t know.

I squatted in front of you to get a clear look, to really get to the truth, taking your chin in my hand like one would with a child because I didn’t know what else to do just then, “Do I know that? You left me without a word – don’t say it – you **left me**.”

“I almost killed you! I haven’t slept because I will kill you if I do.” You moaned, your eyes swam with tears and the sound of your haunted voice broke my heart. I know you’d never be a danger to me, I know you’d always come around.

“Bucky. You wouldn’t.” I wondered if you could see the depth of truth in my eyes.

“Steve – you were there, you know it almost happened. It could have happened so much quicker than it played out.” the tormented look on your face reaffirming that you had no doubt it would be that way.

“But you couldn’t do it. You sleep with a knife under your goddamned pillow Buck. You think I don’t know but I do. You could have gutted me if you were intent on killing me. It was a _nightmare_!”

I wanted to grab you and drag you up, take you home to safety and warmth, I settled for placing my hands firmly on your shoulders, feeling the hard, cold of the metal, and the near warmth coming from your chilled flesh through the thin jacket – you couldn’t even grab your warm coat?

“Come back home. I’ll keep watch while you sleep. I’ll keep us both safe. I can call Sam in as backup if you think it would make you more comfortable.”

“Steve.” I saw the hope warring with the fear in your features.

“No.” I cut off your protest. “You’re coming **home** Bucky. I promised not to make decisions for you but right now I’m putting my foot down. I won’t let you sit out here in the freezing cold and sleep. We have a perfectly good bed. If you don’t want to share our bed any longer, your room is still waiting for you. Those are currently your only options.”

I offered you a hand up, knowing that pulling back from you and giving you that space could force you to run. I said I was making your choice for you but I wanted **you** to make it. I hoped you’d choose home. I wanted you to choose me. When you reached for me I could have sang. I put my arm around you.

“But I hope you’ll still choose our bed.”

I’m glad you came home with me again Buck. I’m sure we’ll have some more dark moments but they’re for us to get through together.


	25. Make Me Your Choice

Bucky,

I respect you so much for what you’ve overcome. When I saw you panic in front of that barber’s chair the only thing that kept me from lighting out after every last beast involved in your torture was that you were fighting a battle and I knew you could use my help.

Even frozen in fear in the middle of that barber shop you reached out to me _and_ you gave me the tools to help you see it through. If anyone ever wants an example of strength of character I’ll point them in your direction.

You seemed to handle the days between the barber and therapist visit and the meeting with the lawyer with a lot more grace than in previous weeks when we would talk about the possibility of meeting with someone. I think you’re making amazing progress and you’re learning to have faith in yourself and in others. I look up from my work and see you across the room working like you did before I became obsessed with giving you your future and I smile. I enjoy sharing the space with you and hearing you whistle or sing along to your work.

When I left for my appointment with Dr. Petrakis the other day, you sent me off with witty comments and your best wishes. I came to the realization that in all of the work I’ve been doing, my focus has been on keeping you with me. I have been part of the reason you’ve felt overwhelmed – which I knew – but my _focus_ on my one desire (keeping you with me) has been working to drive you away.

I told George that I didn’t know how to fix it; the work needs to be done.

“Steve, at this point isn’t it pretty much done? Take a step back. You haven’t even seen the lawyer yet. She is going to want to talk with James and she has to go through everything both on paper and the **most** important information, James’ testimony. If you’re stressing about this can you imagine the stress that James is going through? He has to know that his testimony is going to have more weight than all of the work you’ve been doing for what? Months? I want you to stop. What you’ve compiled is what you present to the lawyer, as it is right now. You’re done. The lawyer will tell you if she needs more.”

I ran my hands through my hair and was ready to argue.

“Steve, in your line of work, you have to know when to pull back. How does it make you feel to know that the next steps are out of your hands?”

“Small.” I put my face in my hands. “I feel like all of this” I indicated my entire body in a gesture, “never happened and I’m backed into a corner taking hits.”

“How would it feel if you knew you had a team that had your back?”

“I have a team, Sam has been working with me, he’s pulled his friend (the lawyer) in.”

“Do you count James as being on your team? I know you’re teaming up to _help him_ but do you recognize that no matter how reluctant he’s been, he has known all along he’s _on the team_?”

“I’d been looking at it wrong.” I admitted. I was fighting for you, but I wasn’t fighting alongside you.

“It’s time for him to do his part. He’s getting to be in the right place for it emotionally. It’s his turn and you can’t perform his role any more than he was capable of performing yours.” He leaned back and waited before speaking again, “Your work with the Avengers, each member has his or her own strength and does their best thing with the support of the team, correct?”

“And this is the same thing. It can’t be that simple?” I thought I knew what he was telling me, but disbelief is hard to get over.

“Yes. The issue of James’ safety and his future is that simple. You’re part of a team and so is he. He needs to do his part now.

You said you’ve been happier since you and James were reunited and have discovered more about yourselves and what your relationship means to each of you. You also said that the same months have been some of the most stressful. First, that’s typical of anyone trying to live with another person for the first time. Second, you have both done a great job of adapting to the stress in order to still find happiness. I want to commend you on that, it’s very healthy.”

“We’ve had our moments.”

“Do you remember what I told James at our first meeting? Recognize the positives, no matter what they are and don’t let the other things get in the way of that. What’s the worst thing you can recall that happened between you two? How did you resolve it?”

“We’d briefly mentioned moving forward with this and without consulting him further I dove in head first, I’d said something about making an appointment with people to try to get him his place in the world and he wasn’t ready. He said I’d made decisions for him not unlike Hydra. I took the words he’d used to express his dismay in the wrong context and I almost attacked him – I would have attacked him, and that’s not who I am – if he hadn’t started to have a breakdown. I would have attacked him.” I wiped my face, tears streaming as I realized that I had almost turned my fury against you. He slid a box of tissues across the table and I took advantage.

“We have a tendency to get in our own way when we see something that should be. You know that James should be able to live a gracious life. You want it so much that your passion is involved. Passion for a thing or an ideal, when challenged, can sometimes be presented as anger. You stopped because he had a bad moment. But that didn’t resolve the issue. How did you resolve it?”

“I listened. I listened to what he said and I heard him.” I said, my voice breaking just slightly. He nodded.

“You know that James was injured, you see it by way of his prosthesis. You also have files that tell you that he was injured in another way. The difference is that it’s internal and that’s where we as people hit a snag. In battle you can take a hit and you can see the damage. You can watch the damage heal and know it’s gone. When it’s inside your head that you take a hit, the hits are invisible. The damage is intangible and sometimes you can’t describe or recognize the wound. To make matters worse, those wounds don’t always heal but that’s why you’re here, to obtain the tools to deal with the injury.

 “I think you have also suffered some damage. Project Rebirth was during a very desperate time and the things that should have gone into it were swept aside, not to mention psychology wasn’t exactly a respected science, so you didn’t get the emotional and mental support you should have gotten from the beginning. The things you were put through had to be incredibly shocking to your system. It’s been what, 7 years for you since your body changed?

“You were a smaller version of yourself less than 10 years ago in your personal timeline. Has anyone ever recognized that? OR does everyone expect that you have piled on the extra 70 years like winter weight?”

“I always get age jokes, Bucky and I even toss them out at each other occasionally. No, nobody has ever addressed the fact that it has been such a short amount of time for me. Of course all of the changes in the world have made it feel longer than 7+ years but – aside from Buck – nobody really can relate.”

“And even his situation, though roughly similar, is different. He’s seen the decades in snatches, right? Has he shared any recollection of any of that?”

“Sometimes he’ll mention something. I think his journals have a little more in them but I haven’t read them. He shares the things he did as the Winter Soldier in small doses. There hasn’t been a lot of talk of experiencing bits of the decades though, to answer your question.”

“So for the most part, you and he can relate to one another on the passage of time, which was the meat of the question. Steve, do you keep a journal?”

I ducked my head, this felt personal and embarrassing, but… that’s why I was there. “Yeah, sort of.”

“It seems like it might be ‘less sort of’ and more, ‘yeah but don’t ask to see my diary with the lock on it’.”

I let out a soft laugh, “Its worse.”

“It’s pink with glitter? If it is, I’d say go for it! They’re easy to find.” He grinned, his laugh lines taunting me and reassuring me that nothing was too much for mental health.

“It started right after Project Rebirth. I started writing short letters to Bucky telling him about what was going on, but the letters weren’t getting sent, I got them all back – I shared too much information and it was top secret. I guess I should be glad that they weren’t sent with passages redacted, at least. But I kept writing, figuring when I saw him again, I’d give him all of the letters. By the time we were reunited, it was – well we were so swept up in everything that was the war, I didn’t give them to him and then he died – he fell. I kept writing him after. That’s weird right?”

“No it’s not weird. Did it feel weird?”

“No, it felt comforting. Even when I found out he was alive I wrote. By then I didn’t expect he’d ever see them. Now I want to give him what’s his but it feels so strange.”

“Because they’ve become your journal?”

“Yeah,” I thought about it, “and because I’ve kept them from him.”

“Is there anything in them that you wouldn’t tell him to his face?”

“No. Just more of the same things I do tell him, things that we talk about.”

“If it’s important to you that he gets the letters, especially the original ones, imagine how important it would be to him? Imagine further, how you would feel sharing them. What I want you to do between now and the next time you see me is to think about giving him the old letters. Keep the later ones as your journal if you want, that is yours to share only if you wish. You don’t have to share anything between now and our next appointment unless it feels right, but I want you to think about doing it. Also, you’re finished with the project until the lawyer tells you she needs something. Put it all together for presentation, pack it all up within an hour of approaching it, and put it away. After that, your focus will be on literally anything else.”

I looked at him with skepticism and he chuckled, his curls bouncing, grazing the tip of his ear. His brown eyes alight with amber twinkled with his laughter.

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“No, Steve. It’s definitely possible and it’s your assignment. Take the time and spend it with friends or with James. Both even? You deserve it.”

When I left his office I didn’t feel it yet. The freedom of letting something evolve. I rode around the city, looking at things and nothing and thinking about what he’d said.

I thought about how much time and energy I’ve put into this and how much energy I might have leeched from you in the process. First things first. I’d take care of that.

I stopped when a sign caught my attention; I went into a couple of shops, loving the small business aspect. There are too many shopping malls. This main-street attitude is what I want, what I need. I wondered, for a minute, if I’d stepped into an alternate reality, nothing would shock me anymore.

After a short walk I saw a florist and decided that bringing flowers home would be well received. I stepped over the threshold and was immediately overwhelmed by fragrance, feeling nauseous I went right back outside. All I could think of was my ma’s funeral. The fragrance stuck in my throat and I couldn’t go back inside. George was right; it hasn’t been that long for us. I slid down the brick framed window, sat on the ground, and ran through the age-old breathing exercises. I pulled out my phone.

> “Steve?” you answered, “Hey how did it go with Dr. P?”
> 
> “Buck-” I choked on the thick feeling still lingering in my throat.
> 
> “Shit Steve, what’s wrong? Where are you?”
> 
> “I’m fine – I just – I’m fine.”
> 
> “Fuck if you are, where are you sweetheart?”
> 
> “I’m outside a florist shop. I’m ok,” I started to sound like that might not be a complete lie. “just needed to hear your voice.”
> 
> “Tell me what happened.” You sighed, knowing I was still a mess.
> 
> “I just stopped. I wanted to bring you flowers.” I hesitated, still trying to follow the breathing pattern I’d set. “I went in and the place – the smell. It was too much. Ma’s funeral,”
> 
> “Ok Stevie. You’ll be ok. Are you in a safe place? You’re not trying to drive?”
> 
> “No, I’m not even trying to stand up.” I half-laughed still feeling choked. “I sat right down in front of the florist and called you.”
> 
> “Good thing you did. Where are you – how far away?”
> 
> “Just a couple of miles, you know the one. I had taken a ride to think, but I was on my way back.”
> 
> “Ok. I’ll be there. I’ll come bring you home.”
> 
> “Buck I’ll be ok in a few minutes, hearing your voice –”
> 
> “Stevie. I’m out the door already. Just wait for me. Can you hang up or do you need me to stay on the line?”
> 
> “I’m good. I’ll be here. Love you.”
> 
> “I love you too. I won’t be but a minute.” I rested my head on the cool window and ended the call.

I called the florist, taking the number from the window behind me, and ordered some flowers. Claiming an allergy attack I asked to have them brought to me outside. It struck me as kind of funny; I would have preferred it to have been an allergy attack instead of an unwelcome flashback.

The young lady who brought the flowers out had just headed back inside when I heard-before I saw-you running across the street. You threw yourself at me and I held on tight, fighting tears as you checked to see if I was ok.

“I came as fast as I could, tell me you’re all right.” You looked at me searching for a lie.

“I’m better now that you’re here. I don’t know why it hit me so hard – but it did.” I pulled back and handed you the flowers with a pitiful smile, “Still got you flowers.”

“You went back in?”

“Nope. Asked them to bring them out. I wasn’t leavin’ without them and I wasn’t gonna make you get your own.”

“What the hell? What am I going to do with you?” you sounded as exasperated as I’m sure you intended but your eyes gave you away. Softie.

“Take me home. Make me something fattening and delicious. Pull out all of the blankets. Watch movies with me until we both pass out from a food coma.”

“That’s not the answer I expected… neither of them even, and it’s almost better than both. Let’s go home.” I selfishly kissed you and held on a bit longer leaning on you.

“We have a short walk, bike’s around the block and down.”

“Should help you clear your head. Do you need to call George?”

“Nah. I got you, Buck. That’s all I need for this little thing.”

I held on to your flowers as you drove me home. I leaned forward, careful not to crush them but eager to lay my head on your shoulder.

At home you fixed your flowers, arranging them nicely in a pitcher whistling softly. I made a note of the need for a vase as I put all of the documents neatly into their file box and tucked them into the closet. “Steve?” you prompted – curiosity plain in your voice.

“Dr. P. assignment. Put it away. My job is done.” I crossed the kitchen to put my arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling your neck lazily.

“That wasn’t easy for you. Won’t be easy to leave it in there either. I’m proud of you.” You angled to look at me and kissed me, your kiss and praise warmed me, making the difficult move just a little easier.

“No, it wasn’t but your support helps.” I smiled; admitting that it wasn’t easy did feel freeing.

“Does it make you nervous that she rescheduled?”

“No, waiting makes me nervous. Not having something to fill the time will make me nervous. I understand that she rescheduled to make sure we had her undivided attention and the case she’s wrapping up would take too much of her focus. I’m ok with that. You?”

“I hate that we are waiting now. I’m still not looking forward to it but I’d started to expect a date and now it’s postponed. It does nothing to soothe my nerves.”

“So… to blatantly and obviously change the subject… what fattening and delicious thing are you going to ply me with tonight?” I asked, kissing your neck and lingering in your scent.

“5-Cheese Mac and Cheese with a little truffle oil, you’re gonna love this.” You walked me to the table and made me sit. I couldn’t resist smiling at the tender way you maneuvered me.

I turned the chair away from the table to watch as you started shredding cheeses and singing along to the stereo. “We missed so much coming to the future the way we did.” I said, listening to the music that was still foreign to me.

“Yes, we did. I’m not missing anything else. Listen to this fucking song, Steve. David Bowie and Queen. Put that _shit_ on your list.”

You started singing along and dancing as you strained pasta.

It's the terror of knowing  
What this world is about  
Watching some good friends  
Screaming, "Let me out!"  
Tomorrow gets me higher, higher, higher...  
Pressure on people - people on streets

 Turned away from it all like a blind man  
Sat on a fence but it don't work  
Keep coming up with love but it's so slashed and torn  
Why, why, why?

 Love

Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking  
Can't we give ourselves one more chance?  
Why can't we give love that one more chance?

Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love, give love, give love, give love, give love?..

'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word  
And love dares you to care for  
The people on the edge of the night  
And love dares you to change our way of  
Caring about ourselves  
This is our last dance  
This is our last dance  
This is ourselves

Under pressure  
Under pressure  
Pressure

 I watched, smiling and I listened, hoarding the sound of your voice to myself, committing the moment to memory.

You made me happy, watching you dance across the small kitchen putting the cheesy noodles together into a casserole dish and then in the oven. You made me laugh when you came up beside me and danced and sang against the chair in a ridiculously animated way. I love when you’re so unwound that you just let shit go. The next thing I knew you were tugging me out of the chair you’d pushed me into.

“Dance with me Stevie.” You grinned. The song was a mellow ballad. Words seared into my heart.

 You're the light, you're the night  
You're the color of my blood  
You're the cure, you're the pain  
You're the only thing I wanna touch  
Never knew that it could mean so much, so much

 You're the fear, I don't care  
'Cause I've never been so high  
Follow me to the dark  
Let me take you past our satellites  
You can see the world you brought to life, to life

 “I’d dance with you even if the world was ending.” You whispered, “shock you sweetheart?”

“Nothing you say shocks me Buck.” I laughed. “And you would not. You’d be busy pulling people out of the fire, right along with me.”

“Horrible choice. I’d rather dance with you.”

“Bucky,” I kissed you, “James,” I kissed you again, “I love you. I need you.” I punctuated my sentences with more kisses. “Marry me Buck.”

I held out a ring that I had just bought that afternoon, dropping to one knee, “Please tell me you’ll be with me for the rest of our days.”

Your fingers grazed my jaw, I waited for you to tell me to ‘serious up’ but it didn’t come. Tears came, but your voice didn’t have a trace of them in it, “I’m waiting for you to ask. You didn’t _ask.”_

“Bucky,” I tried to contain the smile and the frustration, “I’ve loved you for longer than even I knew, I can’t go a single day without you and your stubborn and twisted sense of humor. You’re the first person I call when I have something to share, your face is the first thing I crave seeing when I wake up and the best thing I can think of to end the day. Will you guarantee those things for me for the rest of my days? Will you marry me?”

You sank to your knees in front of me, holding my face in your hands, when I saw the tears spilling over I forced myself to believe they were joyful and that yes would follow. When I was rewarded for my optimism with your soft “yes, I’ll marry you” I let my own tears fall, pressing my forehead to yours. “Yes. I love you Stevie, yes.” you repeated.

My fingers shook putting the titanium ring onto your left ring finger. I couldn’t focus, my eyes flitting from the task at hand to your face and back. “I love you so much. I want you to know.”

“I know Steve. I know.”

“I’ll bet we look like a ridiculous heap of emotional wreckage.” I laughed shakily.

“You don’t. You look beautiful.”

“Buck, I didn’t say we weren’t a beautiful heap of emotional wreckage. Don’t you know you’re the most beautiful creation?”

“Wow… stepping up the romantic words and I already said yes!” you beamed, wiping my cheeks clear of tears. I returned the favor and leaned in to kiss you.

“That’s what you get for playing songs about love and cooking ‘comfort food’ for me.”

I stood up and held out my hand. “We have a dance to finish. Would you play that song again? Please.”

“Anything for you, doll.”

We settled in, after our celebratory spin, to watch movies. You did exactly what I’d requested and pulled every blanket out of the linen closet and the spare bedroom and piled them onto the sofa. We pounced on top of half of them and pulled the rest over ourselves, huddling together because we could and not because we needed to. When the room started to smell like toasted cheese you sprang from the sofa and in record time returned with heaping bowls of brown topped, 5 cheese and truffle mac and cheese…heaven.

We played footsie in the covers while watching ‘Love Actually’, enjoying the delightful characters. The next movie up was a thriller. At a specifically tense moment in the film, you paused it to scoop up some ice cream and came back, “this shit’s pretty heavy, you still ok?”

“Yeah – it’s just a movie. You?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were ok, you wanted fluffy blankets, didn’t know if you wanted fluffy movies too.”

“You didn’t answer me,” I kissed your neck, “are you still ok?”

“Yup, I’m good. Eat your ice cream.” You chuckled pressing ‘play’.

I linked my hand with yours, running my finger along the ring. “Would you rather wear this on the other hand?”

“Why? You backin’ out already?” you paused the movie again.

“No, I’m sitting here messing with it and just thought maybe.”

“Because I can’t exactly feel it,” you took my hand in your right one, lacing our fingers together, “nope. I kinda like how you usually don't call attention to a difference.”

“And I go and blow it.”

“No,” your smile was warm, “I also like that you don’t pretend it’s “normal” because it’s not. But it is mine now. I’ve reconfigured it to the best of my ability to a-access it and b-read the specs that I liberated. I want to wear my engagement band on my ring finger on the traditional left hand. Exactly where my wedding band will go.

“I like that it’s there. I like that instead of just imagining that one day we might be married, I can look forward to it.” I kissed your fingers and you kissed mine, “Sorry about the movie, back to it, please.”

“If it’s too much we can change it, we have both interrupted it. I can admit I might be a bit uneasy.”

“Maybe thrillers aren’t our go-to.” I admitted. “Maybe some comedy?”

“Yeah, comedy sounds good. You choose.” You offered.

“Let’s rewatch something we’ve already seen,” I shifted to set my empty bowl aside then turned back and brushed a kiss on your jaw, “that way we won’t miss out on much if I get distracted by kissing you.”

“I like the way you think. Any ideas? I know” you grinned queuing the movie “Grease!”

“Then you _know_ I’ll get distracted by kissing you – because _you_ can’t watch without singing.”

“And you’ll kiss me to stop me?”

“No, no.” I chuckled, “I’ll kiss you to egg you on.” I took the remote and pressed ‘play’.

As the movie started, you nuzzled my neck, “I hope you know, Steve, there will be a lot of dancing at our wedding.”

I grinned as I tightened my arm around you and settled back listening to you singing along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the songs Bucky sings and he and Steve dance to are 'Under Pressure' by Queen/David Bowie and 'Love Me Like You Do' by Ellie Goulding


	26. Mail Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Really?” he asked when he got to the last page, “You really want me to have all of this? Your heart and soul was poured out onto these pages.”
> 
> “Yes Buck. They started out as letters to you, look, postmarks and everything. I mailed these and they were returned, but they’re all yours.”
> 
> “I can’t believe these were intercepted, how maddening. I waited for letters from you. I worried when I didn’t get any.” He gathered up the stack of war-era letters and held them to his heart before holding them out between us, “These could have saved me a lot of worry. But at least you had them so they were kept safe. It was a dry, dry spell but mail call finally came.”

Bucky,

I’m leaving this note where you can find it. I’ll be back later.

After talking with Dr. P and considering everything we’re about to do together, I decided to give you these letters, all of them. Even though Dr. P said I could keep the current ones as my continuing journal, I think I’ll feel better baring all of my soul than only pieces of it.

There’s a box in the closet where you’ll find the rest.

I love you!

* * *

When I came home, much earlier than I’d planned, I saw him sitting on the floor in the bedroom just outside the closet, and he was surrounded by things. The box was open and trinkets and his mother’s bible were sitting in the lid. The rest was spread all around him as he poured over pages and pages. He looked beautiful, sitting cross-legged resting his back against the wall, his jeans hiked up on one leg, and his tee shirt dusted with damp spots. I saw him take the hem and wipe at his eyes, which explained the spots. When he dropped the hem of his shirt his eyes met mine and a deep knowing was in the air.

“I’m sorry, I’ll –” I moved to leave and he interrupted me.

“No Steve, don’t go.” He held out his hand and patted the spot next to him. “Don’t go.”

“I didn’t plan to be back before you were finished but I wasn’t really up to being out.” I grabbed the box of tissues and handed them to him as I lowered myself to the floor next to him.

“Why would you leave and not share this with me?” Bucky looked as puzzled as he sounded.

“Embarrassed.” I looked at my hands, my fingers, my jeans. “I wrote some personal shit. It was intended to be read far away from me.”

“I can’t believe this,” he picked up one of the first letters, “is from then. From you and from then. This one,” he picked up another, “before Erskine and Stark messed with a perfectly beautiful man.”

I watched his fingers trace the lines of the words on that page and press a photo from the letter to his chest.

I blushed, feeling slightly unsure of myself, but happy to be reminded he’d ‘loved me when’, “I’m still him.”

“No, you’re not, not any more than I'm still this guy. But he’s in there.” He hooked his arm around mine. “This is a lot. A lot of history that I don’t feel entitled to. It’s so much bigger than me.”

“No, it’s all about you; about how I always felt about you. That is _our_ history.” I told him as I rested my head on his shoulder.

“If you insist.” He smiled reluctantly, waving the page he’d been reading when he noticed me, “I’m only about half-done.”

He settled back into reading while I sat beside him. Occasionally he’d bring his free hand up to scratch my scalp or rub my neck. I wondered, in the silence, how my words were coming across and sometimes I struggled to remember what I wrote. I peeked a few times, and more than a few times I peeked at his face to see him tearing up, or smiling, or frowning at something.

“Really?” he asked when he got to the last page, “You really want me to have all of this? Your heart and soul was poured out onto these pages.”

“Yes Buck. They started out as letters to you, look, postmarks and everything. I mailed these and they were returned, but they’re all yours.”

“I can’t believe these were intercepted, how maddening. I waited for letters from you. I worried when I didn’t get any.” He gathered up the stack of war-era letters and held them to his heart before holding them out between us, “These could have saved me a lot of worry. But at least you had them so they were kept safe. It was a dry, dry spell but mail call finally came.” I reached across him and grabbed up his hat and settled it askew on his head. “This made me weep, finding this in that box.”

He looked at me, and for a second, just a quick moment he looked like the years and the things he’d been through hadn’t ever happened. Like the day before he shipped out.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, removing the hat and running his fingers over the brim.

“Déjà vu.” I smiled. “Another time, and another you.”

He sat with his knees up, his hands outstretched holding the hat lazily in his fingers, “but you got this me. You ok with that?”

“If you’ll take this one instead of this,” I reached for the old Camp Lehigh photo, “guy here.”

“About that.” He set the hat aside in the box lid and rose to cross the room. “I was thinking.”

My heart was rushing because he was really not answering my not-quite-a-question, and my hands shook with the photo still pinched between my fingers. He came back around the bed and knelt in front of me, taking the photo with his right hand, and setting it aside on the nightstand. His left hand was closed and perched on his thigh as he sat back on his heels.

“Bucky, you’re killing me here.”

“You know you’ve got me. I just said as much, and who would turn this body down.” He grinned, “Got ya somethin’.”

He held his closed fist out to me and I turned it over, gently peeling each shimmering metal finger open to reveal a ring.

“I hope I’m not the only one gonna show the world I’m taken.” I picked up the delicate metal, “I was gonna wait and see if I could beat what’s coming and maybe afford something a little more precious, but I don’t want to take a chance that I won’t come out the other side struggling. If they want me in prison and we’re on the run, I want you to at least have a ring.”

“Stop talking like that.” I put the ring on and kissed his cheek, “we’re not going anywhere. We’re going to have peace and we’re going to have each other. Here in our home. Oh and don’t make excuses for this ring, it’s perfect, of course I’m going to show the world I’m yours. Especially once we beat this legal thing. Just you wait for me to show everyone Buck.”

Much later that evening, I was at my drawing table, the ice skating painting had been completed and the kitchen table was back to normal use, so I was back in the corner of the living room that I’d always dedicated to drawing. Soft footsteps came up behind me and a stack of notebooks were planted in my lap.

“From my head to your heart.”

“Buck? Your journals?” I looked up into hesitant eyes.

“Yeah, it’s time. Sam’s seen the first few, Dr. P would like to see them, but before anyone else gets the complete picture, I want you to read them.”


	27. Friendships

The hearing, meeting, trial, whatever you choose to call it is getting closer. It’s been bothering Bucky terribly and I have no way to make it easier for him. I’ve promised him that I’d run with him if everything goes south – he knows that for me it was a hard choice to make, I’ve never let running be an option before. Even now, I’m not backing down from my promise, I’m just hoping for more than just his sake that it’s not something that I’m going to have to realistically consider doing.

Just like Dr. P. suggested, I let the planning go – things are no longer in my control but something has crept in. Something I haven’t confided to Dr. P. yet and something that Bucky has only reluctantly agreed to. The team needs to know what’s going on.

Fury is going to have to know that I’ve been hiding something this big. It would be nice to have everything out in the open with the people I know, people I work for and with. Especially before all of the press that’s going to come down after the hearing, regardless of the direction the hearing takes. I thought, to ease into things, it would be nice to have a little backup from my friends.

I knew I couldn’t exactly tell them what I am facing without them learning about Bucky, and I wouldn’t want to go forward without him meeting them.

I finally convinced him to meet Thor, Nat, and Tony, which we did today, and things actually worked out alright. I’ll never forget the look on Tony’s face as my announcements escalated and he learned a variety of things about me that others either never questioned or just didn’t need to label. He had to process the fact that I’m bisexual, and engaged to marry the man who killed his parents, and that said man was in his building right then.

Bemused, stunned, disappointed? I think he was disappointed because I hadn’t confided in him before now. He was the first to insist Bucky come up, though. Whether for the show he proceeded to put on, needling Bucky about influencing me to keep a secret from my “pals” and poking at him for bringing undue danger into my life as “Hydra-Bait” (he correctly deduced that the attack on our home was due to Bucky’s presence), and just over all being typical Tony. He also took a particular, and surprising, liking to Bucky almost right off. They disappeared into Tony’s workshop to talk tech shortly after their joking jabs at each other fell short of amusing me.

Tony continued to surprise me in the best way after Bucky had an anxiety attack. I know Tony understands this, has them, but sometimes he has the tendency to be too blunt at the wrong moment. I was impressed and very relieved that when we came back inside after Bucky could regain his composure, Tony just kept talking like the conversation was never interrupted, which was exactly what Bucky needed.

I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome between them, so I left them to talk. When I rejoined the others, Nat was first to ask if it was a good idea for them to be alone together.

“They’re bonding over technology.”

“That’s not a ruse to get you out so they can kill each other is it?” she continued.

“I doubt it. Tony wasn’t wearing the suit.” I grinned. “He’d need the suit.”

“You know he tried to kill us, right?” She asked, “You’re not forgetting this crucial point?”

“You are not even seriously going to go there? You know what he was put through Natasha. You above anyone should know –”

“Relax, I was just busting your balls. I’m glad he was in the right headspace when you found each other, I should have realized how much you loved him when you went off like that to find him after almost dying at his hands.”

“He saved me and he’s saved me since. Even I didn’t realize the depth of my love for him at the time. I wasn’t even aware of my sexuality at the time, to be honest. There was always just too much else going on. When we were kids any feelings I might have had were taboo and girls weren’t interested. Then suddenly I had Peggy, and Erskine and the war happened, and I was so focused.”

“You’re just now entering your journey of personal discovery, that’s very cute Steve.” She was proud. It was weird and a little bit funny. Later, Bucky laughed so hard when I told him what she’d said, even though we both agreed it was kind of true for both of us.

Sam and Clint had nothing new to say, knowing all along we were going to end up where we are, the most surprising and comforting part of the whole reveal was Thor. He’s definitely not from around here, and as often as I forget this, because he’s always been such an easy person to be around, I really appreciated it this time. I had walked away from the noise and the chatter of the “bird bros” as Tony likes to call Clint and Sam. Nat had joined them and was inserting insults to their video game session. I wandered outside to think about absolutely nothing and Thor, as large as he is, approached quietly.

“You appear pensive.” He startled me.

“I was aiming for the opposite.”

“Is it that you are nervous about your announcement?”

“I’m past nerves, everyone has been genuinely approving. It was just getting too noisy inside. Bucky’s having a good time with Stark and all of his toys. The only thing that would make him happier, I think, would be to see the worlds with you.” I smiled, thinking of the time I told Bucky about Thor.

“I do not think he wants to see any worlds with anyone except for you.”

“Well I’m pleased about that, but I’d be willing to bet he would jump at the chance even if I wasn’t there – he’s always been so interested in science and space and all things academic. I really hope he can beat this thing with the law. He’s going to want to run if he can’t.”

“I would help you, if you ever have need of my aid; I would help you keep your James safe.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You are not asking. I am offering.”

“You know what, I appreciate the offer, and if I were ever desperate, I’d come to you. What I will ask – I’ve promised him a getaway when we beat the system. Will you take us somewhere for a really out of this world getaway?”

“That can be arranged.” He smiled, “from what I have heard, your case sounds promising.”

“If you have any influence, you know, as a deity, I’m sure we’d appreciate any intervention.” I teased.

“I could put on a show, I could appear and make an impression, however, I do not know of any other way I could influence anyone.”

“I was joking, I’m not half as nervous about it as he is, not any more. You know, out of everyone, you seemed to be the least shocked by my revelation. Well, aside from Sam, he’s the one who told _me_ what I was feeling. I hope you’re not offended, I don’t know how these things work in Asgard.”

“Oh, on the contrary, I am not offended. Love surpasses all boundaries, anyone who would be offended by the purity of affection and love has never felt such emotion. I have observed a very distinct judgment on Midgard that I do not think I can ever reconcile. It saddens me that your people cannot embrace all elements of love and sexuality. I am very pleased for you that you have not only found James after such an unbearable separation, but that you have been able to embrace your love for one another.”

“I’m usually not so open to talking about my own emotions, except to Bucky of course, but it’s very freeing to be able to talk to someone I’m not paying or in a close personal relationship with. Thank you, Thor. The others have been accepting but there are levels, you know? Levels of comfort. I’m glad I haven’t alienated anyone, but I’m most relieved with your support.”

“Were you most concerned with my reaction?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Yeah, I think so. I mean with Stark, I expected sarcasm and humor because that’s who he is, everyone else comes from a pretty varied background so I didn’t expect a lot in the way of judgment or conversation really, but you, forgive me for this terrible lapse in judgment, because of your formal manner of speech – I expected a much more old-fashioned response than even I would give someone at such a revelation.”

His laughter filled the space and forced me to smile and laugh with him, “I am sorry for making light of your confession, I have seen that my demeanor and presentation can be construed as antiquated but I assure you my thought processes are quite – progressive.”

“I’m glad for it. I truly value your friendship, Thor.”

“As do I value your friendship, Steve.” He returned with a smile and a “friendly” slap on the back. Aside from Bucky, there’s really only one other man who can send me flying with a _simple_ slap on the back, and that man is Thor. This particular friendly slap caught me off guard and I had to grab the rail to regain my balance.

“Well,” I laughed, “If you value my friendship, how about you not throw me off the balcony.”

“Ahh. I am sorry, I forget that even your enhanced strength is no match for mine.” He taunted.

“I hear a challenge, mighty Thor. How about we go a few rounds?”

“I would not want to add to your stress on a day like today, it must have taken a toll on you.”

“Fuck that, the best way to relieve stress is to hit something – and you I can’t break, and that’s a lot more than I can say for Stark’s upgraded punching bags.”

“Meet me in the gymnasium, then. Gather your witnesses so that you may have confirmation that I fight a fair fight.”

“I don’t need witnesses, you overgrown –” it was lost on his back as he breezed through the doorway. “Thank you Thor.” I muttered, very grateful for both the depth of his understanding and for the excuse to release some pent up energy.

Bucky met me at the door, excited and beautiful, “I hear there’s gonna be a fight.” He grinned.

“You hear that? How did you – JARVIS.”

“MmHm.” He smirked, “I want in. He can handle two of us. He’s huge.”

“Bucky, this is sparring, not sex.” I teased, knowing he was waiting for me to comment on his obvious double entendre.

“I don’t know, one thing could lead to another.” He taunted back.

“You’re crazy. Hey, have some good news for you.” He looked expectantly, “come closer.”

Bucky stepped up against me and I pulled him closer, my fingers in his hair. I nuzzled his neck feeling the prickle of stubble, “Thor would help if we need to run.” I whispered. “Not that it’s going to come to that – but he volunteered to take us away.”

He slipped his arms around me, holding me close, “you’re sure, he’d do that? You’re not just placating me because of earlier?”

“No, baby. He offered. I swear.” He ducked his forehead to my shoulder, “I swear, no matter what happens you’ll be safe.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna fight him now.” Bucky smiled.

“Well come watch, because I do.” I dragged him along behind me.

“Ok, I do want to watch no matter what.” He waggled his eyebrows at me with a flirty smile.

“I love you, you troublemaker.”

One round in and Bucky joined the fight, “you just waited for me to start tiring him before you could come in, you little shit.” I taunted.

“You want me to fight you too, or are we on a team here?” he swiped a leg at the back of my knees.

“Ok, ok.” I picked myself up, “We’re a team – you and me against Thor.”

“It would take at least both of you.” Thor heckled. “Have you even proceeded to fight?”

It appeared we hadn’t even proceeded; the real work had only just begun but Thor’s reach and power were ultimately no match for either of us. The good, clean-dirty fun of fighting just to fight and coming away battered and bruised was actually, exactly what we needed. That, and a quick and dirty shower.

As we came out of the shower, in the middle of toweling off, I looked up from the bench to see Natasha.

“I could come back later,” she smirked, not moving from where she stood, hands on her hips.

Bucky looked up, a strange look crossed his face before he smiled sweetly, “you could – or you could tell us why you came around in the first place.”

“You’re going to be meeting Fury soon, aren’t you.” She stated to the two of us.

“Yeah, next up, I guess.” I answered, stepping into my jeans. “Funny you’re here and asking about Fury. I was going to ask you if you’d come along. You’ve got a pretty good bead on him.”

“I was just about to offer my services. I figured you’d need a mediator.”

“Well, if you two aren’t on the same page.” Bucky stepped over to my side. “Fury, he’s devious, should I be worried?”

“Only if you meet him dressed like that.” She pointed at Bucky’s zipped-but-unbuttoned jeans and no shirt or shoes.

“Well, if it will put him off guard, I might try it.” he smirked, hooking his thumbs into the pockets, causing the jeans to ride lower on his hips. “I appreciate your offer, anything to make Steve feel more comfortable about all off this.”

“What he said.” I added, distracted by the unabashed exhibition my half-naked fiancé was displaying.

Natasha wasn’t distracted; she just raised her eyebrow, rolled her eyes at me, and then as she turned to leave, “call me when you set it up, Steve.”

For being a lifetime away from where I started, I’m pretty blessed with the friends I’ve had thrown in my path.


	28. Proud to Be

Today finally came, after several postponements. Today we went to meet the attorney, Shayla. Bucky has been both anxious for and terrified of this day.

If Fury didn’t unravel Bucky I knew going into Shayla’s office would be like a walk in the park. She’s small and feisty, and she knows her stuff. I imagine her growing up in the country, and it’s easy to picture her in wild braids even with her long hair plaited in one single intricate braid, her nose dotted with freckles, and her Midwestern accent just barely peeking through. The photos I’ve seen on her wall, of open terrain and horses fed my imagination.

I had encouraged Bucky to dress comfortably, because this was _for him_ and he should spend the hour or more at as much ease as possible. He opted for a mix of jeans and a dress shirt – which was perfect and borderline distracting. We met Sam at Ember’s with coffee to go and headed for the train – strangely, Bucky’s suggestion.

“Are you sure? You don’t want to pile too many tests on one day do you?” Sam asked, remembering all too clearly the time when Buck had told him “no trains” and had walked an extra-long walk to the VA just to avoid the train.

“I’ve had this planned since the first time the meeting was set. I knew I’d have you both with me and it’s fucking underground.” He groused. His surly demeanor meant to me that we should just leave him be with his decision, because he was borderline talking himself out of it and we’d just hear about it later if we let him.

“OK, Buck, let’s do it. Just give me a little warning if you decide to take a different stop.” I told him, careful _not_ to use the words “you can always get off early” in my support of his attempt. “I can’t always keep up with you.”

He knew what I was doing, hell, we all knew what I was doing, but the scowl I got was mostly for show. “Not going to be a problem. I’ve looked up all of the stops, I know the route and I know it’s ok. I just have to **do it** now.”

That’s what he’d been doing the last couple of hours, “How’s the coffee? You got a different flavor today.” He offered me a taste and I took it, “not bad – I think I like it better than your caramel mixture. Hazelnut?”

“Yeah, something about trying something new and goes better with the new pastry. I think she was trying to distract me, just like you are.” He answered, nowhere near as upset about it as I thought he might be.

“Everyone wants you to beat this, so we’re all being nuisances to keep you comfortable with new steps… I won’t exactly apologize and I just might thank Ember because that’s a good beverage right there.” I grinned at him, I wasn’t kidding. He stepped closer, offering me another drink.

“Thanks for being a blockhead.” He smirked, “You think this will go well?”

“Has to, she’s your attorney. This is just a review. You’ll have to speak with her, sure, but you’re not on trial yet. Her questions today should be information gathering only. Surely she’ll let you know before she runs you through the actual brutal questioning process. We can make sure she gives us a few days before we get to that step if you need to. Just remember how you approached Tony, Fury and even visiting Peggy, be yourself.”

“I’m glad you two will be there. I guess I’ll have to do most of the talking though. I got lazy with you handling things before.” He looked nervously between Sam and me.

“With the exception of Fury, when you tuned everything out, you know the routine. I need you to pay attention today though, no mental vacations ok? If you need a break, just speak up and we’ll break.”

“Ok. I’ll do my best – this is the shit I’ve been worried about for almost two months now. No mental vacations. Sure, easy for you to say.”

“You can do this.” Sam added, “Just remember there’s no marathon required. You break when and for as long as you need. She’s aware of the fact that this is fragile territory. I’ve spoken with her countless times.”

“Am I a complete mess? Is that what happens now, everywhere I go I’m pre-introduced as “Bucky Barnes is a Fucking Mess?”

“Yes.” Sam nodded. “That’s exactly how I introduce you to everyone. Of course not, what I **meant** to say was that we’ve talked about your history and your case – as you do when you’re preparing an attorney for something that the defendant is _not ready to discuss_. SO, she’s aware. I should also mention, she’s a former Air Force Captain who has seen combat. She really does have an understanding, Bucky.”

He seemed to settle with that, with the done-with-your-shit approach Sam employed and with the details that had been glossed over before. I was glad to have Sam there, as much as Bucky was happy to have me with him.

The train went well, he didn’t seem to _need_ to leave, and we made it all the way to the final stop. The only indication that there was any issue at all was when we stepped out of the station and he took a bracing breath. It was a pretty typical exercise so I was convinced the day would probably progress ok.

We didn’t wait a minute when we entered the law office. Shayla deployed her no-nonsense skill ushering us into her office. I noticed her setup for the day included a circle of seats with a low table between them, for coffee or in this case for presentation. Typically Sam and I had used the chairs at her desk but she’d assumed a position of equal footing and not power by choosing not to sit behind a desk.

“I’ve sent out for coffee and sandwiches, I thought this would make a good place to chat. James, I’m pleased to finally meet you.” She smiled warmly, shaking his hand before turning to hug Sam briefly, “Sam, you look remarkable, tell me Ember’s been treating you well?”

“Aw, she does at that, I can only hope to do as well for her – she has a couple of backups if I slack off.” He said, indicating Bucky and me.

“Steve, you wouldn’t?” she laughed, taking my hand.

“I don’t know, she’s pretty remarkable herself, isn’t she, Buck?”

He smiled and nearly laughed, “I keep telling her to leave him and come home with me. I did see her first.”

“Please, sit.” Shayla chuckled, lowering herself into one of the chairs.

She waved Bucky toward the chair to her right and I took the seat that would be to his right. He sat on the edge of the chair, his fingers toying with the outer seam of the leg of his jeans. I took his hand and linked our fingers together. He looked up at me and settled back a couple of inches on the chair.

“So, James. I won’t grill you too hard today, I have a pretty good idea what we’re looking at in regards to the history of things. If I mention anything that seems out of line, please let me know, because I’ve gotten all of the information second hand. I’d love to hear every detail from you, but my understanding is you are missing some of the details yourself?”

“Yes, often.” He said with a soft smile. “I remember things at random. I have a pretty good grasp of a lot of it now, like a partially completed puzzle with pieces missing. Huge chunks missing here and there and small important missing pieces scattered all over the board.”

“So you can follow along and if I have something out of place you’ll still have a pretty good idea of it, with certain exceptions? You don’t mind if we call your therapist – I understand you have one – in for your hearing do you? They love doctors.”

“Ma’am,” he shifted again in his chair, to settle back further and to turn to face her, “Dr. Petrakis is more than ready to attend and testify. I believe you have his contact information.”

She thumbed through the papers on the table, “Yes, Dr. Petrakis. I do have that, how do you feel your sessions have been proceeding?”

“He’s always got tools to deal with things – he’s very good at adapting. I think he’s helped quite a bit.”

I could feel him relaxing, I released his hand, and he started talking with it as he answered questions. Sandwiches came in about 40 minutes into our meeting, and aside from small talk and subtle moral support, Sam and I could probably have left. He did so well responding to her careful questions.

As Shayla wrapped up the questions, she warned Bucky and the two of us, “Next time we meet – Is Wednesday open for you all? – I want to get into a possible line of questioning from the panel. I will also have the names of the people who have agreed to hear your case. I’m hopeful it won’t get too deep but I want to cover a few options that might be uncomfortable so that you can have that in mind – instead of being blindsided in the hearing. Can we plan on that James?”

“Sure, so full game plan Wednesday.”

“Pulling out all the stops. Remember, we can take as long as we need to get through it – it’s a rehearsal of sorts.”

“Ok. I’ll – I’ll deal with it. It’s coming up so I have to be ready.” He coached himself as he responded to her. I was incredibly proud of how he handled the whole meeting.

As we left, I tugged him by the arm, close to me, “SO… taxi home? You deserve it.”

“Nah, I want to walk.” He said, somberly. I saw Sam roll his eyes and stifled a laugh. I wondered if this wouldn’t happen, just wanting to drain the energy away.

“Man, between him running circles around me and you walking the length of the five boroughs, someone ought to just shoot me.”

“It’s ok Sam, I’ve got this one – You can take a taxi, on me.” I chuckled at his teasing. I knew he’d just hail a cab anyway.

Bucky smiled a small smile, “Thanks for everything Sam. I’ll be paying _him_ back for the cab, because it’s me that owes ya.”

“Right you do. So, if you need any prep help for Wednesday, let me know, we can meet up at Ember’s after the afternoon rush or I’ll have her whip something up and bring it by.”

“Let’s plan on it.” he said softly. “Let me know when and we’ll show up.”

“Let’s say after 6, we’ll practically have the run of the place then. At least until the theaters start letting out.”

“Thanks again, Sam.” Bucky wrapped his hands around my arm, holding close. He rested his chin on my shoulder as we watched Sam hail a cab.

“You ok babe?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He was probably fine, but I gave him time to want to talk some more. We walked leisurely among the bustle of everyone rushing past. “People sure are in a big hurry.”

“Yup, seems the only way to get anywhere is fast.”

“Look who’s talking, you love fast.” He bumped into me playfully.

“I like slow too. Did today mess you up or help reassure you?”

“We’ll see. So far I feel ok about it. Like you said, today was a walk in the park. Wednesday should be the litmus test for this whole thing. I’m getting a tight feeling in my chest just saying Wednesday.”

“Don’t stress before it gets here – it’ll be the same office, the same people. This action is for your benefit, not against you. Just keep that in mind and you’ll do fine. Hey, if it helps you can even see if Dr. P. can get away to attend.”

"That's a pretty good suggestion. I'll text him now."

"I'm really proud of all of the things you've been able to deal with recently Buck. If I've been pushing too hard, please tell me."

"No, I think I've been ready," he said holding up his phone, "Dr. P keeps encouraging things as quickly as they've been happening and I haven't had a single anxiety attack - if you look past DC. That was different."

"Yeah, that was very different - those were flashbacks that had nothing to do with this. You handled those well too."

"you know, you keep saying you're proud of me - but you know what? I'm starting to feel a little bit of pride too. I'm proud of my achievements, mostly I'm proud to be here with you."


	29. Insomnia

I’ve been dancing a precarious dance with insomnia for two weeks. Every night Bucky and I go to bed, and every night I lie there for hours after he’s in a deep slumber. I try to sleep, until I stop trying and get up. Dr. P. says it’s perfectly normal, considering the time I put into the case that will be presented to the people who will decide Buck’s fate, to be anxious. “I didn’t realize I was?” I told him, but he said, “your subconscious knows you are.”

Ok, subconscious, don’t you know, I’m also tired?

If things go as _I want them to_ we will come home and everything will begin.

If they go as _Bucky fears they will_ we will go somewhere deep under cover and not tell anyone where. I will eventually contact Sam. He is not happy with the contingency plan, but I made a promise. Hell, I’m not happy with the contingency plan… but Bucky’s worth it.

There, there it is in black and white, and I still don’t like it, but I lost him twice. I’m never losing him again, even if it means we never again see the people who love us.

I haven’t told this part to Dr. P. I don’t know how much doctor-patient privilege protects him (and us) so I’m writing it down. I’m making a record of it so that when it doesn’t have to happen, Dr. P. can look at me with a disappointed shake of his head after he reads it.

Bucky has been so full of life in the past couple of weeks, heading out to hang out in Tony’s workshop for hours at a time, taking his work there instead of doing it here. He’s learning new things and it fascinates him. He’s applying things he learns with Tony to the jobs he’s doing and he’s happy. I wondered once if he’d ever be happy again and I see it. I watch him thriving and happy and sometimes I even realize I’m a part of his happiness. I’m just pleased to be an observer half the time.

I’ve got a couple of surprises up my sleeve for Buck, once the next few days have passed. I can’t wait for him to find out. I’ve been thinking about both things for what feels like forever – but on paper it’s just a few months shy of how long I’ve had him back in my life.

A couple of days ago I made another trip to DC to see Peggy. I told Bucky I just wanted to see her and I’d be back by nightfall, he instructed me to stay overnight, but with my current aversion to sleep, I didn’t listen and got home in the early morning hours. He read me the riot act about safety and drowsy driving, etc., until I pointed out to him that I'd been through so much worse.

On my visit with Peggy, I sat beside her, and told her about everything, about my surprises, and about the contingency plan.

“You've finally found a reason to run away?”

“I promised him I wouldn’t let them put him in prison Peg. I can’t, He’s so happy these days, even with the bad days, he’s found things to keep him here, and happy. I can keep him happy anywhere he’s free.”

“How is that freedom, Steve?”

“He’ll maintain his autonomy. I can’t let anyone take that from him again. I know we’ll be limited, but only by our own choices.”

“You’ll have no choices to make. If you do this, you’ve compromised your own autonomy.”

“I'll have given it freely.”

“I see you’re as set on this as you ever were on anything related to James.”

“I am.”

I lost her to her dementia soon after that, by my admission? Or just due to her health? I don’t know and I’ll never be sure. I can’t ever tell and I’m always just grateful for any moments I have with her. Of course I knew everything she said even as I found myself making the promises to Buck. I knew neither of us would be free if we run but I have to give him the chance.

I only think about it a few dozen times a day.

The other times I think about him walking away and about giving him my surprises. Those tickled Peg, the thought of the two of us being married, I thought she might have issue with that, but my Peggy knows my heart and wasn’t remotely surprised. So when I told her how I want to do it and about taking Bucky away she smiled and she laughed and cheered me on, even giving me suggestions.

We’re only days away from whatever fate has in store for us now.

If there had been no war, I’d look a whole lot different than I do now, Buck would have gone on to do god knows what and had a healthy life, but I’d never have met Peggy, or Sam and the rest of the gang. I’d probably never have admitted my love for Buck and I might have even lost him, he languished so much from fear of admitting how he felt, he might have left town and never came back.

Sometimes I think I’d trade my happiness and the love I have given him for having him healthy. Sometimes I think if he could be whole and never have suffered, I’d give anything. Then there are the times where I watch him struggle and it hurts. Then there are the times when he’s dancing around the apartment, cooking and singing at the same time, or pulling me on top of him on the sofa to “slow down Steve”, and I imagine we might be happier now, bruised and broken inside – some wounds gaping forever – than we would have ever been in a society that wouldn’t let us love each other.

 


	30. A New Day

I’m free.

I was going to say Bucky’s free, because he is, but I just realized _I’m free_. I get to spend my life with my best friend and I still get to have the things I’ve made for myself.

I’m watching him sleep now; he’s got this soft and contented smile that makes me giddy. I know his struggles aren’t over but now he’ll be able to face the things he needs to face without a horrible fear of the future to make matters worse.

I won’t have to worry about losing everything all over again, because if we’d have run, that’s what would have happened. But we’d have each other so I’d have done it.

Tomorrow we can wake up and move forward. I don’t know what to think about this, I can’t continue to make plans for him, I have to start making plans for myself – we need to start making plans together.

I thought for a second that I’d be busy making plans for my surprise but as soon as I asked Thor for his help, he assured me everything was going to be taken care of and then Sam reminded me that there’s red tape that has to be cut through. I know just who to call to help Bucky with that.

Tomorrow.

Right now, sleeping sounds very welcome after the two weeks where I had little-to-none.

* * *

 

First thing in the morning on the day after Bucky was freed he was up before the sun. I was barely conscious, but I registered the quick kiss across my forehead before he climbed out of bed. He went out of the room for whatever reason, and I settled back into my slumber – for maybe a minute or thirty. Next thing I knew I was being shaken.

“Stevie, come on love. We’ve got things to do today.” He sang.

I rolled away from him and he tugged me back. When I looked up, he was dressed for the gym. “No.” I groaned.

“Yup, come on! This is the first day of the rest of our lives! Let’s do something about it. I need to get started.” I threw my arm over my eyes, and he pulled it away, “I see you smiling Steve. I know you’ve already caved.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, come on, this is important.”

“You’re terribly energetic. I hate you.”

“You don’t.” He insisted.

“You’re right,” I pulled him over the top of me and kissed him, “I don’t.”

“That’s right. So, let’s get a run in and then we can start finding out what I need to do to be a legal person.”

“You are a legal person.” I sat up and shoved him aside playfully, “Let me get some clothes on.”

“I tried to figure it out for myself but wouldn’t you know I was too restless to figure a damned thing? Like a fire was lit or something, I just want it all fixed **now**.” He was much too talkative for this early in the morning, especially for him.

“You’re anxious, I get it. Hey, I’ll be done in a little bit.”

“I’m going to go up to the roof, come get me when you’re ready.” It’s still his spot, a place to think and be. Whether it’s good or bad, I think he uses it to try to ensure we’re protected. It’s also a pretty great view.

I usually know I can find him there, so him telling me instead of ducking out was sweet and unnecessary. I found him leaning on the wall, looking at the horizon. My tendency when he’s not looking is to be determined and just louder than I usually would so I can sneak up on him without actually causing a negative reaction. I know he knows I’m near but maybe if I want to slip my arms around him he can still be pleasantly surprised. I did just that. He relaxed in my arms. “What’s going on?” I asked into his neck.

“I’m not sure, anxiety? The good kind. I can’t figure out how to get everything squared away and I just want it done now.

“I remember waking up and thinking ‘I can do anything I want today.’ My first thought, on my first morning as a free man and it made me smile. Then it made me frown when I considered what it was I wanted to do. There were so many things. Technically am I still dead? Did they scratch that when they put me on their ‘most wanted’ sheets? When I said I wanted a license and a bike, I mean it Stevie, but I need documents for that – I need to know how to get them.”

He was worrying. Memories and red tape crowded in his mind. I want him to be ok with what he has gained both in his recovery and with this triumph.

“What’s the rush? I know, it’s long overdue, but we’ll take care of everything, I promise. I’ve already figured out who to enlist to help.”

“You had SHIELD to take care of yours, they probably had it all for you by the time you woke up.”

“Just about. So, if you want to announce your intentions to Fury, he could probably work wonders.”

“I’ll wait, I don’t want any favors tying me to any of that. I know what I said but it’s going to be on my terms. I want in I’m in, I wanna walk, I’m out.”

“I know and I love you for it. I was just giving you the option. I like your plan better anyway. What else is on your mind?”

“I look out there every time I’m up here and I can’t ever tell if that skyline is right.”

I nuzzled his neck, “What do you mean?”

“I looked across the skyline wondering if I’d see the city differently as a free man. I see this view almost daily, ever since I moved in here, and I am always looking for things that I think should be there but aren’t and when I don’t find them I wonder if I made them up in the first place. Are there things missing? Were they ever there?”

“There are a few old buildings over there that are gone. There’s a vacant lot where the old tenement used to be.” I pointed to a spot over his shoulder, “There’re more new things there than old ones missing, but maybe the new buildings are obscuring the view to whatever you’re trying to remember.”

“Maybe that’s it. Kind of like what’s in my head. Are you sure you can deal with whatever fate has in store for my mind?”

“Yeah, Buck. I’m sure. It’s only getting better, right? You’re healing, even if you didn’t regain one more memory. I don’t keep tabs on what you remember. I am just grateful that you remember pieces of us. You’ve even reminded me of things I’d forgotten, so how can I fault you for things you might not ever remember? If some of the things are gone from your memory, there are new things to take their place, memories we are making together. Hopefully obscuring the bad ones, if only a little.”

“Steve, thank you.” He stood in front of me, “if you hadn’t pushed and pushed to get that research done, if you hadn’t spent hours and hours,” his voice failed.

I took his hands in mine and tugged him close, “I would fight for you, physically or any other way necessary. I had selfish reasons, you know.”

“I don’t care what your motivation was,” he put his arms on my shoulders, and I put mine around his waist, “Steve, I saw how many hours you spent and I know there were so many more when I wasn’t looking, when I couldn’t look. You did things I couldn’t do and because of it, we’re here.”

 “Buck you’re welcome. How could I do any less? Come on, let’s go for a run.” I tugged him away from the wall, “since you got me out of bed before sunrise.”

* * *

We met Sam and Ember for the promised celebration, Ember had decided, appropriately, that we should do it at her apartment. Sam opened the door when we got there, “Hey!” he cheered with a smile, “How was your first day as a free man?”

“Overwelming. But I’m official!” Bucky said, holding up his temporary license. “Shayla – Sam she’s the best, you find all the best people. She had already started on everything and – Jesus, I don’t know how to repay you or her.”

“He’s high? Drunk?” Sam asked me, still smiling.

“No, just excited.” I grinned, “he’s been going all day.”

“Not like himself at all.” Sam said, shaking his head.

Ember took Bucky into a hug, and tugged him into the kitchen. “hey, you’re all over the place.” I heard her say to him, she was rubbing her hand up and down his back.

“Ember, I feel different in a way, now that the terror over my future is out of the way, I feel almost optimistic. Yeah, the darkness is still lurking, no, I’m not healed. Thinking about it, I believe the urgency to get the official stuff taken care of might have been a way to assert myself, to take _me_ back and to really feel like I belong.”

“You do belong sweetie.” She kissed him on the cheek, “Always.”

“You know what I mean.” He answered, “There’s so much left out there, you know? I was talking to Stevie about it this morning and I really do like the way he put it, the way he didn’t dismiss the shitty stuff but didn’t make it his focus. I also felt this thing, like my chest tightened, but in a good way, when he said he was ok if I never remembered another thing, I’ve been so worried about that.”

“Honey, you’re pretty perfect for him already. Don’t stress about things – we’ve talked about that before, you stress it will never come back. It’s when you’re not stressed and worried that the memories can settle softly.”

Have I said how much I love Ember and how happy I am that Bucky has her I his corner? I really owe a lot of his recovery to the aid he’s received from her and from Sam.

“So, what’s next for you Steve? You don’t have the case or any red tape to worry about, are you going to get back to Avenging?” Sam asked.

“Wedding plans.” I said quietly, I could hear Bucky and Ember talking, I didn’t want Buck to hear us. “Secret stuff.”

Sam nodded, “something we can discuss anywhere but near your boy.”

“Exactly.” I nodded, “and then Avenging. It’s time to make myself available again, take on some of the workload.”

“How’s that going to affect him?” Sam asked with concern.

“He still wants to join. He’s just being stubborn and doing it at his own whim.” I smirked looking at them in the kitchen, “Which I support 100%”

“Let him get used to being a legal member of society first. It’s a good idea. You two haven’t been able to really go too far from home in daylight. Maybe now that it’s warming up you should consider a vacation.”

“Part of the secret plans.” I said quietly

“Bucky this is your celebration, you’re not supposed to be cooking, don’t make me kick you out of my kitchen.” Ember ordered.

“So who else is coming?” I asked the room at large.

“Nat and Clint will be here, Stark might show up.” Sam answered as Ember smacked the back of Bucky’s hand.

“Out!” she said in an exasperated tone. “I said you’re off duty Sarge.”

Bucky grabbed her waist and kissed her, “C’mon I can help, what do you want me to do, sit on my hands? I’m going to be surrounded by people, people I barely know… I can’t get wound up like that, lemme help Emb.”

“Ember, you’d better give him something to do or he’ll be perched on the roof for the duration of the party.” I figured I’d better go to bat for one of them, still not sure which.

“Clint will join him, maybe it will be a good thing.” Sam joked.

“Fine, I hate it but you’re all right – except for you, Sam.” She scowled for all of us to see, “Bucky, baby, you wanna do the pastry crust? That should keep you occupied.”

“Watch me roll.” He teased.

“Has he been like this for long?” Sam asked.

“He has. He was like this the night I proposed. I think therapy has really been helping both of us, Sam.”

“He’s going to have some reality checks, you too really. Have you thought about the press?”

“Of course I have. I know we can’t duck the press much longer. The word is going to get out in the next hour to the next day or two. It’s going to be different and difficult.”

“Any ideas how you’re going to handle your relationship announcement? Him being a free man will be the least of your worries.”

“I’m not sure. Ember honey?” I looked to see the two of them working in tandem, she peeked around Bucky.

“Yeah Steve?”

“What’s the best way for Bucky and I to announce our relationship to the public?”

“Twitter and Instagram.” She said without hesitation. “Just do it. Some stupid lovey picture of the two of you and a brief and straightforward message. Then back it up when people ask. Just my opinion.”

“We could go back to Coney Island and take pictures on the Cyclone.” Bucky chimed in. “Or a selfie on the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“You’re being obtuse.” I warned.

“No I’m not, people eat that shit up. I kinda do too.”

“I would never have guessed that about you Buck.” I told him. “By all means. Let’s do this – but you’re not on either Twitter or Instagram and I’m not. If we set it up there wouldn’t be anyone to even see it.”

“Oh Stevie,” Ember said in her best exasperated voice and came over to sit on the sofa arm next to me. “Do you know _who you are??_ Don’t you think if “Captain America” put himself out there – _verified_ account no less – you’d get so many followers! And for it to be your _first post!_ ”

“I’d disagree with her if she was wrong Steve.” Sam said.

“Why do I get the feeling you are going to have this set up before your pastries are even ready for the oven? Aren’t we supposed to be doing things to mellow _him_ out?”

“Hey Stevie!” Bucky called me from the kitchen. When I looked up he was flipping me off.

“Love you too jackass.”


	31. Instagrammable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, this is it, the last one. I know there was a bit of a delay a few times, and I apologize for that. I wanted things that took their time coming together.
> 
> Read the latest chapter of [Bucky's Journal](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/18046756) for the piece immediately preceding this.

The Instagram thing was a crazy, insane hit. We preempted the idea slightly by my sweeping Bucky up from the party that same night. I’d had to have Sam follow me outside so I could explain while contacting Thor. “Ember already knows.” Sam said, not bothering to ask the question.

“She does. I needed advice, from her specifically, or you’d have been the first to know Sam.”

“Fine.” He said, but he was smiling. Usually if he’s going along with me against his better judgement, there’s no smile accompanying his agreement, so I knew it was ok.

“I want you and Ember to come. You know Tony has something planned at the end of the week, right? I want you to officiate, he’s offering, but you already offered, and I’d like to keep the number of occasions Buck has to want to punch someone to a minimum. That and I’d really be honored. I think we both would.”

“You know I’m going to, and you should know I wouldn’t miss a chance to go to _Asgard_. So sign me up.”

So at the party/reception Tony had planned, I had a quiet moment with Buck on the balcony which resulted in a heart-to-heart about our current trend of happiness.

Bucky had gotten his college acceptance letter that afternoon and when we arrived at the party, Pepper had given him the news of his army back pay. He was understandably concerned about forgetting things and I hopefully offered some relief when I reminded him of our vows. I reminded him of the happy people in our lives by showing him a beautiful scene inside the windows, Tony and Pepper, Nat and Clint, and Sam and Ember were all dancing and looking sublime.

He told me, “It’s a happy occasion. Can you believe all the good news today? I mean, my back pay, and college acceptance, all on our Earth Wedding day.”

“Buck,” I said to him, aware that he wasn’t able to see what I saw in his face, “the best news of all is something you haven’t even considered.”

He looked at me with confusion, trying to piece together something he might have missed. I smiled, waiting. When he didn’t ask, I took my phone from my pocket and opened the camera. He’s not always camera shy, but after our night of being followed very specifically by the hired photographer, I had to sorta ask. “One for us, private and not by a not-really-a-stalker photographer.”

I smiled, hoping he’d be ok with it, he leaned close, tilting his head and smiling. It was a stupidly beautiful photograph of the two of us, his eyes were light, his smile was soft, and I could see his happiness in the image.

That was the picture I asked him if we could or should use.

“Use for what Stevie?” He asked. He was lounging across the bed in the luxury suite Tony had put us up in, the sheet was bunched and barely covered his hip and the top of his thigh.

I stood at the foot of the bed and tugged on his foot, “Why a sheet at all, if you’re not even going to be modest?”

“I’m not concerned about this.” He flung the sheet to the floor, “What do you want to use that picture for?”

“Don’t you remember? Last week we were going to announce our engagement. Now it’ll have to be marriage. If we post it on Instagram now, we beat any sneaky-assed press who might have figured out what was going on tonight.”

“Do it. It’s a beautiful photo.” He said, wiggling his toes in my hand. “You interrupted what we were doing to ask me that?”

“We weren’t doing anything. We were _done_.”

He laughed, “Oh, Stevie, we were far from _done_. Just because you decided you had to piss.”

“You’d appreciate that I did, I’m sure. What should we say?”

“Jesus, you really are on this? We should say, “I’m not fucking my husband right now because I wanted to tell the world I’m queer as fuck.”

Would you believe, for a split second I considered it?

“Give me the phone, I’ll post it. I’ll say _exactly that_.”

“Fuck no. I won’t let you say _even remotely that_.” I argued, crawling over the end of the bed toward him. “You need to be more helpful or there will be no more fucking tonight.”

“You’d punish yourself to motivate me? Wow Rogers.” He gripped my jaw with his metal hand, I’ve felt the sting of the power of that hand, and I’ve felt the tenderness, this was definitely tender, if not firm. He planted a forceful kiss on my lips and pulled away before I could deepen it.

“I’m teasing.” I admitted. “I couldn’t resist you, but I would like your help with this.”

“I told you what to say. You wanna clean it up? Clean it up, but it’s blunt and true. You’re so excited to share our lives, and lifestyle, that you’re wrapped up in the moment.”

I pulled up the app, motivated by his frustrated attempt to clean it up for me. Surprised to see followers on the account that we’d made in a rush, and then not added anything to, I opened the picture. No filters, it was beautiful as it was. Bucky’s dark blue bespoke tuxedo jacket, me in my crisp white tuxedo shirt, his head tilted so that his soft hair touched my temple, both of us smiling and in love.

“First post. I’m in love. I’m so excited to share that I love my husband; student, veteran, recovering pow, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes-Rogers, that I’m taking time out of my #weddingnight to share our love!! #bisexual #lgbtqa #lovewins #marriedmychildhoodsweetheart #bisexualsteverogers #bisexuealbuckybarnes #hesaysthatsenoughfornow”

“Ok, look – what do you think?” I said, handing him the phone.

“Oops, hope it’s ok, my finger slipped. Look out world Steve Rogers is queer.”

I grabbed for the phone but he held it away. He brought it closer when I stopped reaching, and he showed me the post.

“You’re an ass.” I told him.

“You love my ass. Oh look. Someone likes it. Someone _doesn’t_ like it.”

“There’s not a ‘don’t like’ feature.”

“No, but there’s a homophobe button. It’s called an open comment box.” He said. I grabbed for the phone again, reading the slur and clenching my fist.

“Well, screw ‘em.” I finally said, knowing not everyone would agree. I’d seen protests over my doing my job and I knew how some people still felt about anything other than binary gender identity and anything not heterosexual. “I don’t expect to be loved by everyone, I’ve got you Buck. If we can have some freedom by being open and out, and if we can help someone else realize who they truly are, simply by being stronger than the bullies that exist there, then I don’t give a shit what the nasty trolls say.”

He pulled me closer, taking the phone back, and kissed my temple, “I love you, you’re gonna fight those bullies too, I just know you. Look, more likes, and some really good comments.”

“You’re going to fight them too, I know it.”

“Of course I am. I’m with you to the end of the line you jackass.”

“Somehow you’ve managed to take something very personal and turn it into a very rude comment.” I complained, punching him in the side, with very little ‘punch’ behind it.

“It’s a gift. Look.” He sat up, “Listen to this, “You’ve saved my life. My parents disowned me tonight when I came out to them. I was about to do something drastic and terrible when I found this post. I read about what Bucky’s been through and if he can come through it with a smile and a love like that, I can survive this. Thank you for your openness.” No give it back.”

               “@CamiCarmelTwo I’m so glad my story and my love for this big blonde jackass has made you reconsider-it’s  
               hard and it gets easier. Remember when you’re struggling that it really will get easier. I said so. <3JBB-Rogers”

“Buck! You can’t!”

“I _can’t_?? I just did. I called you a jackass. Twice.” He kissed me again.

“I love you. And you’re the jackass.” I kissed him back, nipping at his mouth while taking the phone from him, and tossing it aside.

…

We woke to phone calls. “You had to post last night.” Bucky groaned from on top of me.

“I did.” I agreed, running my hand along his spine. “they can wait.”

“Betcha one’s Stark, or Pepper. “why’d you do this? We had the press figured out?! Barnes made you do this didn’t he?! Jesus Steve this is a fine mess”. He mimicked each of them in turn. He rolled off of me and I groaned.

“Come back here. I need you.” I complained. His head disappeared over the side of the bed and resurfaced when he had my phone in hand. He didn’t let me see the missed calls and messages, opening Instagram immediately.

“Holy shit Steve! Thousands of new followers and likes, hundreds of comments to try to read through!”

Bucky settled against me with a crash and snapped a picture of the two of us, after-sex bedhead and all. “Morning to all our new followers. First day on Earth as a married couple. We really tied the knot a week ago on Asgard. Thanks Thor! <3JBB-Rogers – and Steve :) (he can figure out all those annoying hashtags later)”

“Buck. This – you’re amazing.”

“Well, I have my moments. I love you Stevie.”

"I love you too, Jerk."

**Author's Note:**

> Please take a moment and let me know what you think - comments are inspirational :)


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